#cw impending death

[rainbowchewynuggets]

TMA Encore #15

Everything feels smaller and emptier now. Further away than ever.

Jon spends a long time looking for Martin, calling his name. He hasn’t heard anything back. He feels like he’s being wrung out like a rag as the Entities revoke their favor in him. His head hurts terribly.

There’s a grinding sound rising behind him. As he zig zags around in search and the sound steadily grows, he starts getting scared that he’ll never find Martin. That something happened to him.

Jon finally feels his hand brush something warm. Martin’s hand. He turns around and clasps it as it clasps at his. They can hear each other. See each other. They’re relieved to see the other alright.

They decide to go look for the others. On the way, Jon retells his revelation to Martin, who listens intently.

They get interrupted by the grinding sound catching up, and the terrain pounces on them to drive them further away from Not-Jon. As they run, they encounter many branching paths. Rather than agonizing over which are right and which could lead them to worse traps, Martin suggests that they not overthink it and just pick the ones that appear to be the best choice based on the information they have in hand. Jon’s stomach turns, but he agrees. He refuses to grant the enigma his doubt and indecision. He squeezes Martin’s hand and lets him pick the lane.

Their method proves true. They quickly escape the upheaving terrain and–amazingly–find Tim and Sasha.

~

The two are aghast to see Jon and Martin in one piece each. The boys don’t have much of a plan for the moment, but they want the two of them to come along before the landscape catches up. Tim and Sasha hesitate.

Martin: What’s the matter?

Tim and Sasha have the grace not to let Jon know that they heard his tape, but they ask if he detonated the TNT after he split off in the tunnels.

Only then does Jon’s stifled memory resurface. He saw the blast from halfway down the tower shaft. The explosion had reached him before the emerging hellscape did. He remembers the scorching and crushing pressure. They all remember.

None of them could have survived. They’ve been fabrications within the Entities’ sphere of influence the entire time. It could explain why Jon and Martin’s avatar status progressed so quickly and why it has gone back out with the tide. Their minds have been kneaded so that they couldn’t realize it on their own, even as they clambered over the wreckage that killed them.

It’s a deflating revelation. If any of them manage to escape, there’s no telling how much of what they do will directly serve the Fears. Even without Jonah, the Institute, or the Mother of Puppets in play, their fates are still not their own. At the same time, how can they throw away the hard-won revelation that they do–no matter how small–have agency here? At least enough to walk away, to refuse to act. It could make all the difference, and it’s certainly more than Not-Jon has shown himself to have.

They talk it out.

There are two options. They could stay here as the creature digs his way out in hopes of not spreading the Extinction themselves. There’s a chance he’ll die here, leaving the rest of them to handle the hunger until they too pass away. If Not-Jon escapes or Not-Martin succeeds him, they’d be difficult to stop. Or, the group could try to monitor their manipulation and escape, themselves. If they’re fast, they might be able to trap the doubles before they get out–assuming that they won’t invent a reason not to.

The safest thing to do from there would be to avoid involvement with any other rituals or disturbing activity, no matter the circumstance. It would be too much of a risk to participate, even with good intentions. As much as they’d all love to put this behind them, the probability of actually doing it with how much they know seems… unlikely. There’s a good chance they’ll inherit the full brunt of the hunger.

On the other hand, how can they justify not acting on their knowledge of the Entities in some way? They could, as Not-Jon had said, save lives.

It could all be part of the Fears’ plan to have them escape, Tim argues. But then, what about the plan to have Jon take over? It’s possible for them to have two plans, Sasha simply replies. 

Jon explains that the Fears have no plan. He saw it himself–they’re creatures with as abstract a concept of their prey as their prey has of them. Avatars make plans on behalf of the Fears’ desires. Even if their motivations are somewhat influenced, they aren’t being “puppeted”. Martin agrees. If the Fears had that kind of control, they would have won already. As long as the four of them try to stay actively aware of their impulses and shortcomings, they might be alright.

Sasha asserts that it won’t be that simple. They just destroyed a massive site of power and became part of an irritant to residing avatars. Trouble’s going to seek them out.

Sasha: For all we know, they’re already on top of us out there.

Martin: Or it’s been no time at all. There’s no way to know how much time has passed in the real world.

Tim: I guess we could just bolt and hope they never find us. The avatars wouldn’t necessarily know what we are just because they get headrush when we happen to pass by.

The other three perk up in surprise at Tim’s comment.

Tim: That doesn’t mean I agree. I still don’t think we'd be able to keep it together out there.

They continue to debate the same points for some time with no consensus. There will be massive risks no matter what they do. The near certainty of failure burns in the back of Jon’s mind. The possibilities nag and bite.

His attention drifts, tracing a path back the way they came.

He knows he could still corner the creature if he tried.

Martin: Jon. Jon.

Jon stops staring off.

Jon: Right, sorry. What were you saying?

Sasha: We can’t agree on going. But we’re willing to… try it. We try to find a way out without letting the place get to us.

Martin: Which might work better this time if we know what we’re doing.

Tim: And if we can’t do it, we stay.

Jon rubs his neck.

Martin: You don’t think we should do it.

Jon: No. But that probably means we should go for it.

Utilizing a mix of Sasha and Tim’s methods and Jon and Martin’s methods of counteracting the hellscape, they begin trying to find their way out. If they’re lucky, they might find the hole in the wall from before–or some other loose trapping that could be pried apart as the hellscape twists itself tighter and tighter around them. The wet parts are starting to dry, making them brittle.

They can’t find a stable path, of course. The journey quickly becomes intimidating, and the environment punishes that to the fullest extent of its ability. It’s grueling and frustrating and never seems to get them any closer to their goal. Jon constantly has to fight the impulse to abandon the others, especially as the Fears descend upon him to remind him of what they want. But he stays. He fights not to pry, but the same thing is happening to the other three inside their heads. And they stay. They face their obstacles and the danger they pose head-on, with the unfounded certainty that they can handle it. It becomes a kind of shared psychosis. Their blind faith allows them to put more trust in each other, which bolsters their fluidity as a team. That trust only deepens with time. Their mission demands it, as their exit eludes them for days, weeks, an eternity. They never escape, but they survive.

~

Not-Martin watches from afar with the burgeoning sight of the Eye. Long invasive fingers pull at his consciousness, seeking refuge from the rapidly decaying vessel they chose, used, and have wasted. Not-Martin knows that it’s happening at some level, but he can’t really feel it.

He had tried hard to stay in his cell. But there he was, outside of it, once again steeling his nerves to kill his partner a second time and looking for something sharp. That is, until the group caught his attention.

Hearing their discussion felt like white noise at first. It took a while for the meaning to sink in. He watched as they shakily put their theory into action. Without the paralyzing logic of the enigma in play, they seem more... themselves. Not that he really remembers what that means.

Not-Martin fully expects them to fail. To give in, to be crushed or show signs of insidious sway.

The group continues to evade the hideous alien presence that now saturates the very fiber of their being. Of his being. He keeps watching, a motionless phantom waiting for its grim reality to reach the foolish occupants of the haunted wreckage.

It always happens. Why would this time be any different?

As time passes, the definitive proof of this radical solution that he knows won’t arrive doesn’t arrive. The group falters. They fall apart.

Not-Martin lets out a deep sigh. He hadn’t noticed himself tense up.

He catches himself hesitating  to move on as the victims of the enigma languish in tatters.

Knock it off, he thinks. He shouldn’t be drinking this in. He has work to do.

But before he can tear himself away, the members of the team change their scattered course. Slowly, difficultly, they come back together and start again. Their observer counts their inches of progress as they face their first obstacle. They fail to be defeated, moving on to the next. Their quest is the same as before, with its tiny little victories. Only now, Not-Martin isn’t watching for failure.

A nagging feeling prompts him to wonder why.

His punishing journey has taught him that the only way to progress against the Fears is not to care what happens next. These four people fighting tooth and nail to see an uncertain future reawakens a piece of him he’d been trying to kill for ages–something he had set out with into the unknown, but had had to leave behind in order to continue.

That piece remembers how repulsive the Lonely feels. It’s the part of him that felt something at seeing the passions of others reflected in himself, despite his isolation. The desire to realize his own passions despite the dread that always held him back.

Life. His life.

He’s been dead for so long, the remains of a failure long ago. But now, he feels acutely aware that he’s still here. Still acting. Just as they are.

How much of that time has he spent trying to destroy himself? Watching his partner destroy himself? For what? They still became part of the trap. Betrayed the promise they had made to defy evil that had threatened to swallow them. The future he had hoped for that had carried him out of the Lonely’s shore and through the apocalypse.

One way or another. Together.

But it isn’t over yet. They’re still here. They still have that promise to keep. They could still have that future, however brief. They could be themselves again.

And the thought of that, looking at where he is, nearly scares him to death.

Not-Martin feels something burn inside a frozen hollow place that grew over the years of detachment. It’s barely there, but a drop of warmth feels like a fire when you’ve become accustomed to the deepest cold.

It’s so hot, he falls to his knees with tears in his eyes.

He clutches his chest, desperately trying to hold on to the precious feeling as instinct tries to force it back.

He feels paper-thin, like he could expire in the breeze.

Nevertheless, he gets to his feet and sets off toward the root of the island, high above him.

The creature slithering and scraping in the darkness below him answers without pausing.

NJ: Go back, Martin. It’s almost over.

Not-Martin–or just Martin, here–can’t find it in him to argue, looking at the circumstances. He’s too winded from the climb anyway. He settles back against an outcropping of busted wood.

Jon notices the lack of response, but only turns his head for a moment as he tears at the last of the rubble with unraveling hands.

The shade on the ridge sits silently. There are arguments he knows he needs to make and vanishingly little time to make them, but he suddenly can’t find the will. It’s all he can do to hold on to his warmth as it drains the cold determination that was preserving his inertia.

Below, the shrapnel flays away more of what’s left of his partner with each stroke. It kills him to watch. He looks away, but it kills him all the same.

To his surprise, Jon slows to a stop and speaks first.

NJ: Have you seen what the others are up to?

Martin picks himself up a bit to answer.

NM: Yeah. I was surprised, but it seems to be working so far.

NJ: They’re persistent, I’ll give them that.

He sighs tiredly.

NJ: Still can’t risk letting them out, though.

NM: They kind of make me miss the old days. Never thought I’d say that.

Jon makes a haggard noise that he thinks might have been a chuckle. A long silence follows.

NJ: I miss the way we used to be, too. I’d nearly forgotten.

His voice is quiet and fragile with regret. Martin can barely hear it.

NM: It’s working, Jon…

NJ: For how long?

Nothing.

Martin’s guard drops, and his partner can feel what’s going on inside him.

Jon turns himself around in the pit with concern. His many green eyes wink up from the darkness.

NJ: Martin, what did you do?

His voice is alarmed, and it wakes Martin up.

NM: I’m letting it go. The whole plan. I don’t… I don’t want this anymore. I want us to make it through this. It doesn’t have to be the end yet.

NJ: It’s too late for that. You’re going to get killed if you turn back now.

NM: No. I’ll be fine. They’re right, Jon. Neither of us are going to pull off what we’re trying to do. The Fears only have more of us the more we think we’re pulling away.

NJ: It’ll be even worse if we give up. We can’t just unleash this thing.

NM: We don’t have to give up, either. I was wrong. This is how the Entities win, Jon. It’s how they always win. It’s our fear. We play their games and fall right into their hands because we’re scared of what’s going to happen. So this time, why don’t we just go on and find out? Maybe we can try to get back a little of what we’ve lost while we’re at it.

The man within the creature can feel the meaning of the words. Emptiness reawakens with longing for all the things that both of them were so committed to think weren’t possible for them.

NJ: How can you believe that?

NM: I don’t. But we don’t have to. We’ll just do it anyway.

NJ: Martin, stop.

He feels weaker by the second.

NM: We promised. This is our last chance.

His partner extends a hand toward the pit.

NM: I can’t come down and get you this time. You have to come up.

Jon hesitates.

They’re right there. Just behind the door.

They knock again.

The rapping of Their fingers shakes the tenuous shape of the wreckage loose. Martin falls, followed by a crunch.

NM: I’m–I’m stuck.

Jon knows. Pain. Blood. The cuts are deep. His partner is going to die.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

The creature is paralyzed, the consequences of loss and failure shrieking at each other at the forefront of his mind.

It’s happening again. He has to choose. If he shares the burden with Martin, it would relieve the vulnerability. Martin will live, sustained only by the maddening burden of Jon’s mistakes–and so will the Fears. If he leaves, Martin will die. No matter which he chooses, he’s still being drawn forward by fear.

Jon has never been more sick of it.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

The sound of screeching, straining metal echoes up from the pit.

Martin: Jon?

Jon’s knifelike fingers claw at the rubble, showering him with brick and glass. The components that lead into his back–buried deep in the remains of the Institute, connected to beings beyond reason–drag behind him like an anvil. Partway up the climb, still far from his partner, he runs out of leash. He pulls with the final ounce of strength that never seems to leave him to hoist the entire mess upward, but he only ends up breaking some of what’s holding him together. It falls and clatters in the darkness.

This will destroy him. He knows it.

Martin: Jon, can you hear me?

Jon: I hear you. I’m coming. Just keep talking to me.

The certainty of defeat has sobered his panic.

Martin: You remember the cabin?

Jon: Before or after I read the mail?

Martin: ^smiles^ Before.

The wreck comes loose, and Jon slides down.

Jon: I remember getting stranded on the road the night we got there. We had to walk to the nearest town. It was terrible.

He starts up again and loses more parts.

Martin: Yeah. It wasn’t so bad, though, looking back.

Jon: Well, not compared to the walking we did after the cabin.

Martin: That doesn’t seem as bad either, now. There… there’s a lot I don’t regret about the times we’ve had to go back. Or the time we spent driving each other up the wall at the Institute. I think I could do it all again if you were there with me.

Jon: ...I would too.

Martin doesn’t seem to hear him.

Despite it all, Jon aches to walk straight into the eye of the abyss with Martin’s hand in his again. Even though they’ll fall apart. He wants it more than anything.

He just has to make it a little further.

Something yanks him downward. He clings as tightly as he can and cranes his head back to see the speck where Martin is. With that movement, he snaps a crucial thread holding him together. Layers of his horrible body separate with each movement. He burns, the foul soil in his chest smoldering to dust. He doesn’t care.

He keeps moving. Just a little further.

His hands fall away on contact, leaving weak spindly limbs of armature to climb with. His body is a tangle of loose snares that rapidly shakes apart. Cords and ventricles tangle and burst. The tether that leads back down into the dark remains intact as the creature is left with less and less of himself for ignoring his keepers. The pain reaches new unbearable heights. Pieces continue to fall as he slowly climbs.

Martin hears the clatter come closer, even as it grows thinner. Gasps and shudders echo up the walls of the heap. He stretches his best arm downward as Jon reaches up.

————

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[calamitysshatteredson]

“I am sorry I do not have more time.”

Between You and These Bones prompts | accepting but slow

There was a barely audible click to his swallow, dry throat unprepared. Everything about the past few days had been... viscous; slow-moving and all-consuming like a nightmare.

He was awake. Regrettably, in some ways. Lucid. Very much aware and clinging to the dip between two exhausted moments, sleep deprivation successfully curling backwards on itself and offering him a complete inability to sleep. For a little while.

His silence was telling, and he knew that much. He wanted very much to argue. Maybe to lie. That she was being silly, she'd recover. She was just a little sick, was all, and she'd be fine.

He'd already tried lying to himself. He'd stopped abruptly when it came to lying to her. One of the only people he would willingly refer to as friend and family, through and after everything... and he could feel how thin her hand was in his. Cold and covered in paper-thin skin, shaking.

Sephiroth wanted to lie to both of them so much in the moment when Skylar's gaze focused on him, waiting. Patiently.

There was so little time left. And he had nothing to bargain with.

Finally, he nodded, resisting the urge to squeeze her hand any more, trying to keep the tone of his voice questions and not pleas. "Is there anything I can get you? Anything I can do?"

[lighthouse-system]

Can someone spam me with Gorillaz stuff in either asks, DMs etc. I need the happy fuel/distraction. Basically my grandmother is dying very painfully and gruesomely & I have no means to be there with her.

[ssahotchnerr]

Ok I just got this image in my head of working out at the FBI gym to unwind after a particularly bad case, and Aaron had the same idea and so you're just there getting distracted because you can't help but stare at him and maybe he finally notices and he's amused - I would die (a happy death)

distractions

you and me both <3 cw; gn!, bau!reader, mutual pining, suggestiveness, your basic cm case descriptions, aaron being hot per usual

your first priority after the jet touched down - the bau's gym.

the case had been unsettling; a not-so-happy ending. sure, you had gotten the guy, but not before he had taken out his most recent victim. he had known it was only a matter of time until he was caught, he had known police had shut down the surrounding area, and managed to complete his endgame before being apprehended.

it happened, sucked when it did. and rather than going straight home, a distraction was in order; to move your body instead of laying in the dark internalizing what could have been done differently.

at the late hour, you expected the gym to be empty, and you had been correct, until aaron walked in about ten minutes after you did.

he seemed just as surprised to see you as you did him, silently nodding a hello at you, heading for the treadmills.

you had been on a yoga mat, stretching and warming up your muscles before doing anything strenuous. but at the sight of him, your impending workout plans were far gone.

you were used to seeing aaron in his usual suit, you'd seen him in casual clothes a few times due to team outings, but nothing could have prepared you for the skin-tight black shirt he was sporting. it was clinging in the all right places - his torso, biceps, and yup - you could've sworn he did have the faintest of abs.

you've always been attracted to him, but this. your mouth had immediately gone dry, your body felt warm despite your lack of movement, and no pure thoughts were in your mind in any capacity.

you tried your hardest to not look, but you couldn't tear your eyes away. how could you not? first reason being, it was him. and then the longer he ran, the sweat caused his shirt to stick to his skin more if it were possible, his chest rose up and down the heavier he breathed. as he jogged his calves flexed, and god were his thighs sexy. his shorts were on the longer side, mid-thigh to be exact, leaving more to the imagination than you would have preferred. but the slightly, newly exposed skin was still, well, new.

so you stayed put, choosing to just admire the view before you. but hopefully to not be too obvious, you performed sit ups; lingering upright to grant yourself the visual before laying back down.

well, at least this is one way to forget about the case.

give or take another five minutes, aaron adjusted the treadmill's settings, slowing to a stop.

"that's it?" you teased, a soft laugh leaving you as you straightened your legs out, reaching for your toes.

as if you were the one to speak, barely moving an inch.

"yeah," he took a swig of his water bottle, panting as he caught his breath. "it's a bit hard to focus with you here."

caught.

"oh my god," your face burned with embarrassment, scrambling to your feet. "i didn't mean to- i mean, you just looked so..."

aaron laughed handsomely, approaching you as your words trailed off. "i meant i don't want to trip over my feet. especially not with you here. it wouldn't look very good for me, i don't think."

oh? "oh."

"but go on." aaron teased, his lips pulling into a smirk as his eyes met yours, dropping for a moment. he was studying you this time around - the light sweat coating your skin, and not very subtly staring at your lips. his breath picked up again, his gaze returning to yours. you also realized, he was dangerously close. "i looked...?"

you swallowed, blinking up at him and managing a soft, "what?"

"i saw you staring. now c'mon, don't start something you can't finish, sweetheart."

[pimosworld]

Pairing-Joel Miller x f!reader 

Summary- Joel’s a grump when it’s hot and also when he gets jealous. 

CW- 18+, No outbreak au, established relationship, mostly fluff, grumpy Joel, reader is not described, possessive Joel, family dynamics, illusions to smut, joel is down bad for reader. 

  WC-1.9k

 A/N- I can’t wait for summer so I wrote this little snippet into the life of the Joel I think about often. May do a spicy part two if the mood strikes me. 

[Main Masterlist][Joel Miller Masterlist]

Not beta read

Dog Days

He told you he’d behave. Begrudgingly and with promise that you’d make it up to him. That’s the only thought he clings to as he sits in this lawn chair that’s too small for him. The only seat away from everyone else so he doesn’t have to do the small talk thing. He can still see you though. Sun kissed and smiling at something Maria is saying. 

  He still doesn’t know how you do it, how you make it look so effortless even on the hottest day of the year. His shirt clings to him and he’s sweating in places he wouldn’t speak of out loud and you just stand there all heaven sent like it’s a different temperature in your world. 

  Your world bled into his before he knew what hit him. He started to enjoy sunsets and stopped to smell the flowers, because that’s what you liked to do and he quickly learned that anything that made you happy made him feel like the most fortunate man in the world. He’s fortunate to have you every morning, waking up curled into his side as you steal sleepy kisses along his chest and his arms. He pretends to be asleep for as long as he can until he’s so worked up he has to make you come at least twice before you extract yourselves from the bed. 

  That’s where he wants to be right now as he stares at some prehistoric bug that’s landed in his warm beer, flailing and hoping someone can put him out of his misery much like he hopes after being dragged to this godforsaken barbecue. Despite it being his own brother he would have gladly come up with any excuse not to be here. He loves his family but sometimes he couldn’t stand Tommy. 

  ‘Who has a party on the hottest day of the year?’ You laughed earlier as he grumbled about in the kitchen helping you pack away the things you prepared in the cooler. 

  ‘He can’t control the weather Joel. You know he’s excited about the new house.”You with your rational thought and kind heart. 

  ‘Who’s side are you on Darlin?’ He caged you in against the counter as he ran his hands up your thighs. You shiver under his touch and he knows it wouldn’t take much to convince you to stay home. 

  Your hands meet his as you pull them up higher, bunching your dress a little to reveal those cheeky shorts he couldn’t get enough of. You wrap his hands around your waist as you run yours up his arms and around his neck. His chocolate brown eyes are glazed over as you slowly put him under some trance. Your lips kiss that spot in his beard as your nails scratch at his scalp and he has to brace himself against the counter to keep himself grounded. ‘I’m always on your side Miller.’ 

  “What’s up with you brother?” Tommy slaps his back bringing him back to this fresh hell. A man can’t even day dream in peace. 

  “It’s hot.” He grumbles and goes to take a sip of his beer before he remembers and chucks it out on the grass. 

  Tommy licks his lips as a smirk pulls across his face, no doubt thinking of something to say that will have Joel flying off the handle. His niece is running towards them with the same look on her face to save him from his impending death. Wild black curls bouncing in her face to match her parents. 

  Tommy holds his arms out for his daughter but she crashes her small body into Joel as the weight of her hit causes a small creak in the lawn chair. A muffled hi uncle Joel is said into his shirt as Tommy stands there defeated. “You stayin out of trouble?” 

  She just shrugs her shoulders and offers her hand out to him. An ice cold Diet Coke she’s barely able to get her little hands around. A mystery smudge is on her shirt and her pants have seen better days. Tommy wanted a boy but he was pleasantly surprised when her little personality started to take hold and he quickly realized he had his hands full with this one. Her two front teeth are missing and the smile etched across her face is a mischievous one. “Thanks sweetheart.” Joel takes it from her, it’s still cold despite having traversed the lawn and been subjected to the warmth of her hands. He’ll wait a moment to open it, no doubt jostled as she ran over here. 

  “My mommy said you look hotter than h e double hockey sticks.” 

  “Izzy!” Tommy snaps at her and Joel can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. 

  “What…I spelled it. I didn’t say Hell.” She rolls her neck and he swears he can see Maria in that moment. 

  “Isabella.” Tommy’s voice drops an octave in warning as she backs away slowly with her hands raised. 

  She reminds him so much of Tommy when he was younger. It’s only fair that he gets a taste of his own medicine. When Joel met you the decision had already been made that you didn’t want kids and Sarah was almost in college and Joel didn’t want to start over. It was a relief to find someone that could love his child so fiercely despite it not being their own. Izzy came barreling into their lives shortly after Sarah left and you loved that little bundle of joy like it was the last thing on earth. 

  There’s little hints of you in her sprinkled throughout your time together. Her insistence on correcting people and their grammar, the way she defends others although you told her she should try to use her words more after she punched some kid on the playground for bullying a smaller kid. Joel may have had a hand in that one. 

  Joel cracks the can as Tommy drones on about repairs that need to be done to the house. He already knows what his brothers’ getting at and he doesn’t even need to ask…of course he’s going to help him take on whatever project needs to be done to get the house in order for the new baby. He knew Tommy was nervous before Izzy arrived and this brings on a whole new level of responsibility. They were so grateful they’d found a house down the street from you and Joel with just two months to spare before this new bundle arrived. 

  He takes a sip of the bubbly cold drink, the sweetness is slightly off. You swore he wouldn’t be able to tell but of course he can. His doctor told him to cool it on the sodas and he made the mistake of telling you. You care so much…too much. You called his brother and Maria and now they’re watching him like a hawk so he has to sneak the ones with real sugar like a junky getting his fix. 

  In the brief moments he’d been graced by Tommy’s presence he lost sight of you. His eyes scan the large backyard, the kids playing in some dirt mound, some guys from the job site ribbing each other by the grill. You and Maria are by the cooler with some mystery man while you rub her swollen belly. His eyes roam down your body as you bend over to lay a kiss to it and whisper sweet words to your soon to be niece or nephew. 

  You stand and try to adjust the strap on that dress he loves so much. You’re always complaining about how the straps never stay up and he supposes you keep it just for him. He’ll have to remember to burn it when you get home as he grits his teeth and watches the man get an obvious look down the front of your dress. 

  “Who’s that?” Joel juts his chin toward the end of the yard as Tommy squints his eyes. 

  “Don’t.” 

  “I just asked his goddamn name Tommy.” He huffs at his brother and he just shakes his head. The heat was already getting to him before and now it’s at a fever pitch. 

  “His name is James, we just hired him.” Tommy holds his arms out in a mock satisfaction and Joel’s not in the mood for his theatrics. 

  “We? Hired him.” Joel shifts and he hears the chair creak again. He stands up abruptly not wanting to be flat on his ass because of his brother's crappy lawn furniture. 

  “Yes Joel…remember you put me in charge of staffing the site?” 

  Joel just hums under his breath as he crosses his arms over his chest. He’ll have to remember to start vetting the candidates again if this is the type of people Tommy’s got working for them. 

  The man is crossing the lawn towards them with a presidential smile and Joel’s already pissed. He greets Tommy and offers his hand to Joel as he begins to introduce himself. 

  “James is it?” Joel squeezes the man's hand a little too tight as he winces. Tommy retreats not wanting to be a witness to whatever Joel was going to say or do. At this point he knew there was no stopping him. 

  “Mr. Miller, it’s nice to meet you.” He doubts that and he can tell by the look on his face that he’s already sorely regretting walking over here. 

  “You don’t really have an eye for jewelry do ya?” Joel cocks his head waiting for an answer, an easy trap to set for a simpleton like James. There’s no right answer. Not when he’s got his teeth sunk into him. “See I noticed almost immediately that there’s a ring on your finger.” He gestures to the man’s hand and holds up his own. “You didn’t seem to notice my wife’s hand when you were eye fuckin the shit out of her.” 

  “Hi Honey.” Your sweet voice hits his ears as your hand travels up his arm, working your way behind his neck to rub that spot that seems to always make him deflate. 

  James uses this momentary distraction to run away with his tail tucked. 

  “You behavin?” You purr at him as he drops his head down to let you run your fingers through his hair. 

  “Always sugar.” His words slurred a little as he succumbed to your touch. You’re like a sedative the way you seep into his veins and put him in a trance like state. 

  He can’t see your eyebrows raised at him as you scan the backyard for the offending party. “Come on Miller, let’s get you home and cool you off before someone gets fired.” 

  He starts to speak but you shush him with your finger placed gently on his mouth. A quick glance over your shoulder and you lean up kissing him deep. It almost takes him by surprise how you still have this effect on him. No longer concerned with the heat or the stress at work or his brother’s constant annoyance. You can silence all those thoughts with just a taste of your lips. You break away when you hear the whoops coming from Tommy and Joel grumbles under his breath. 

  The strap on your shoulder slides down and you sigh a little as Joel runs his finger underneath, feeling your smooth skin turn to goosebumps. It’s intoxicating the way he knows he has that same effect on you. He’s smirking to himself as he reaches behind you and adjusts the strap, getting a glimpse down the front and the soft swell of your breast. 

  “Looks like you and James have something in common.” You laugh as he scowls at you, the kind of laugh that has tears at the corner of your eyes. 

  “Don’t push it darlin.” 

Comments and and reblogs are much appreciated

[amandragora]

so Toasty has a vet visit at 6pm, and we’ve all talked and stuff about it, and we’ll likely opt to have her put down. She’s very old for a hamster, her spine is shaped like a question mark, and her tail is literally kinked in such a way that it’s just stained with pee bc it’s covering her backside instead of sticking out like a normal tail. 

I do love her, and that is why it’s time to say goodbye, because I don’t want her to reach a point(if she hasn’t hit it already) where life is just pain. 

I’ve been kind of hoping she would just pass away naturally, so the decision would be taken from my hands, but that doesn’t seem to be likely, and she looks worse every day. Given her condition I don’t think I’ll feel guilt over it, but it’s still always sad to say goodbye.

[cwseriesshowdown]

Quarterfinals: Riverdale vs Legends of Tomorrow

Riverdale: Archie Andrews starts the school year with the world weighing on his shoulders. He's decided he wants to pursue a future in the music business, but his recently ended clandestine relationship with the music teacher has left him without a mentor, and his friendship with Jughead Jones is in a bad place. Things look like they might be turning around when Veronica Lodge, a new girl, arrives. Despite the instant chemistry, Veronica is hesitant to risk a friendship with Betty -- who has a crush on Archie -- to pursue anything. Amidst all the small-town banality lurks a mystery: the recent tragic death of Jason Blossom, the twin brother of beautiful and popular troublemaker, Cheryl.

Legends of Tomorrow: After seeing what doom the future holds, time-traveling rogue Rip Hunter realizes heroes alone are not enough to prevent the impending catastrophe that threatens the planet. Tasked with recruiting both heroes and villains, Rip brings together a ragtag team of divergent talents, which includes the likes of Sara Lance, Ray Palmer, and Heat Wave. Although the team continually adds and loses members, their goal is always the same -- prevent supervillains from destroying time itself.

[lesservillain]

My Beloved Monster and Me.

eddie munson x cryptid!reader

cw: smut, blood, wounds, death, inhuman!reader

a/n: just a little something i’ve been wanting to write for a while. figured why not make it my come back post.

Eddie felt the life draining from his body. Sure, it hurt. But it was merely an afterthought with the way you were making him feel as you rode him with reckless abandon.

He knew better than to venture out in the woods alone with all the mysterious deaths that happened in Hawkins over the last few years. Wayne always told him there was otherworldly things lurking around this town.

Eddie wasn’t afraid, though. Nothing anybody could say to him would keep him out. He knew nothing would come after him in the woods. And if they did, they wouldn’t last long enough to know what hit them.

“Uuuugh, fuck,” Eddie moans, voice horse from the way your teeth grip his throat. He could feel himself slowly slipping away, his climax reaching its impending peak at the same pace.

The thrill of dying in such a way is what kept Eddie coming back here. Back to where he knew you would be, in this clearing.

He didn’t know exactly what you were, mostly because you didn’t speak to him. The most he got out of you was a few chirps and expressive gestures. But if he had to guess, he’d say you were some kind of vampire.

He knew you’d killed others before him. Stumbling upon a fresh kill of yours by pure accident being the reason you’d even cross paths. And even after this whole…situation, became a reoccurring event.

But, one thing Eddie was certain of, was that he was the only one you were giving this “special treatment” to. It even seemed that you’d been excited to see him here recently.

The moan that vibrated against the skin of Eddie’s neck sent chills down his body. He could tell you were getting close to cumming, knowing the signs tour body gives him now after all of your times together.

Eddie musters his strength and does his best attempt in slowing your movements. Thankfully you give in without much fight, and Eddie is able to adjust himself just enough to where he can thrust up into you.

The crunch of forest floor under his shoe is barely audible over the sound of your wails of ecstasy. Removing yourself from Eddie’s neck, you let him bounce you on his cock, the hot blood dripping down his neck from the wound.

Everything becomes a sensation overload to him, Eddie speeding up briefly before all movements come to a halt. His grip would be bruising on a normal human, but it’s wouldn’t leave a mark on you.

His hot cum fills up your now warm cunt, the blood from his body flowing through your veins and bringing you back to an almost alive state of bodily function. Eddie didn’t understand it, probably never would. But, something about his blood pumping in your veins made him feel special.

Your body slumps, arms wrapping around his neck as you lay onto top of him. He can feel your tongue gliding across the wounds you gave him, the punctures closing at an unnatural rate that he’s learned to accept. No scars either, thankfully. That would be hard to explain if they did, considering how often he comes to see you now.

Eddie wraps his arms around you tight, to which he is met with more happy chirps from you. You look up at him, mouth bloody, but still as beautiful as ever. He leans in and lets his lips meet yours, the irony taste of his own blood stinging his tongue.

“Missed you, sweetheart,” Eddie says with a dimpled smile. You nuzzle into him and Eddie beams, hopeful that it meant you were staring to understand him. He’d been trying his best to teach you to communicate, but teaching the english language was even harder than learning it yourself.

“Eddie.” His name coming from your otherworldly voice would send chills of fear down his spine in any other context. Instead he feels his heart flutter in his chest, practically beaming with joy.

thanks for reading 🖤

[pursuitseternal]

“Seek Me:” naughty Hide and Seek for you and your Vampire Lord in “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3.4 K of predator/prey, hide and seek double smut

Summary: To fight the impending ennui of politics, you play a game, just a simple hunt, a sort of dark and perverted hide and seek. Winner claims the spoils, and the spoils are always… delicious.

CW: predator/prey dynamics, perverted hide and seek, slight exhibitionism (twice), rough sex, possessive sex, double cream pie, (surprise) carriage sex

Ao3 link | Astarion fic Masterlist

Chapter 11… Seek Me

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Shadows stretch across the palace halls, bending and misshaping anything familiar. That creeping memory of sneaking in here years ago to stop the Rite that made you and your love what you are still niggles in your thoughts and nightmares sometimes.

Times like this, you wonder why Astarion insisted on living in such a place of past torment. Even though the decor was brighter and the crimsons more vibrant, it didn’t matter in the dark.

All looked the same cloaked in shadows and covered in night.

Your undead heart pounds, it's slow and hard as your breasts rise and fall rapidly with your breaths. Why… why did you agree to let him go first? Some little game to break the ennui. A simple game of hide and seek. But you should have known, hiding and seeking was more than that in an ancient ancestral, vampiric palace.

And it was always more than that with Astarion, your love, your sire, your husband.

You keep your eyes open for his glowing red gaze… your ears train the ground for his near silent step… he’s far more practiced at all being a vampire entails. He can hold his breath, slow his heart, move like death incarnate.

Your only advantage is that you know the palace better. All these days spent overseeing renovations as he attended council meetings and travels, you had more than a few tricks up your sleeve. As long as he didn’t catch you first.

Darting onto the balcony, you keep to the shadows and hug the wall. If you can just make it inside the hall, you’re sure he won’t find you for quite some time.

After all, it’s just a little game to play while your guests are still departing, admiring your new palace. It’s only a matter of time now before you both need to leave for some grand soirée, another of many evenings wrapped up in tedium and the boring banter of politics and power. This game is to spice up the evening ahead. And instead, it just makes your heart race.

Winner or loser, you know you’re just going to end up split on his cock, gasping and pleasured wherever you are. Wherever it is he finds you.

You just hope it’s not within earshot of these nobles…these poor, pathetic souls who wander to look at your splendorous home. You hear their voices from down below, lightening your step to go unnoticed. Muffled noises grow closer. Hands shaking, you know that hidden door is here… behind this panel, your hands skim over the ornate wallpaper, searching with fumbling touch for the switch. Noises grow louder, and suddenly you’re aware of the milling crowd on the other side of the railing. They can just catch you from the corners of their judgemental eyes, their ears just within reach enough to hear you if you were to make enough noise…

You wonder if they can also hear those footsteps approaching. Astarion. Hunting you down, seeking you in your fun and twisted game.

Trembling, ragged breaths come from your mouth as you finally hear the click of the hidden switch, the panel shifting in the wall to reveal total and utter darkness. You smile, relieved….

Until two glowing crimson eyes open to look down on you from within. Quicker than breath, he’s turned you around, dagger to your throat and arms pinning you against his chest as he laughs so quietly in your ear. “Shhhh, not a sound… my treasure.” He grinds his prominent erection on the curve of your ass through your thin silken gown. “Not if you want those Patriars and Council members to hear how much of a slut you are for your lover…”

You swallow the sound that longs to break from your throat. His hand, the one that isn’t skating the blade of his dagger tantalizingly over your neck, skates up your thigh, rucking up your skirts to reveal your bare legs and curves. Just the way he likes you.

“You want that, want to show off how much I crave you, don’t you…?” you hiss the question, pulling at his arm enough to free you, but he only retaliates with a smile on his lips.

Clutching you all the harder, he spins you both into the wall to press you into that elegant wallpaper. That dagger blade is stowed away, replaced by his hand at your neck. His laugh is laced with pure devilry—he lives for this. That hand returns to hiking up your skirt until you feel nothing but the fine, supple leather of his trousers grinding against your ass. “You question if I’d like the powerful men of this city to know that its Hero against the Netherbrain whimpers for me almost every hour of the day?” You feel his hands quickly, dexterously unlace those leathers. That thick, hot head of his cock teases against your ass, slipping beneath your thighs as he spreads you wider with his knee. “You wonder if I’m proud that my beloved longs for me always, and I for her?”

You stifle your groan against the rich and ribbed texture of the wallpaper. That cock head teasing into your entrance just enough to make you shake, to make you press against the wall harder to lift your hips more for him. A low growl shakes against your sensitive ear as he approves, that cock teasing inside you just a little bit more. “Tell me, my treasure, how hard did you try to hide from me? That couldn’t have really been your best…” he taunts you, both with that hot and blunted head in your folds and his words in your ear. “Once I’m finished claiming my victory this round, you’ll just have to try again you know…”

Shivering, you nod, your cheek rubbing that expensive paper, its lush colors too bright to have your face shoved against it. “Oh no, I was barely trying, my love,” you lie just to taunt him all the same. “I just wanted you to claim your victory, worried you’d take too long for how badly I need you.”

“Such pleasing words from my lust-driven consort,” he chuckles, quiet enough for your ear alone. “Such a slut, just for me, is that it?” he rasps as he shoves himself deep into you at last, fangs sinking into your neck all at once. “What kind of lover would I be to deny you that?”

He sucks harder at your neck, hips pistoning against your rear deliberately and smoothly. You physically bite your tongue and cheek to keep from moaning, the hard won prize of this game going to both of you, that desire flooding your bond. Thighs shaking, you know you won’t last much longer, not with the thrill of being just out of eyesight from the dozen or so guests that still mill around. “I look forward to you trying to beat me again,” he growls in your ear, words staggered and stuttered with his thrusts. “But we better finish this round before anyone suspects the Vampire Lord and his Consort of being so madly in love they can’t keep their hands or sexes off each other, hmm?”

A small whine escapes your self-imposed gag on your lips, and it makes him laugh low and dangerously in his throat. “What a good little consort,” he nips at your ear. “Just can’t help yourself. So clever to get caught…” he groans. With that thickening inside you, that gravel in his voice, you know he’s growing close.

The thought alone makes you come undone, back arching, your fangs breaking your own lip’s flesh. It takes every ounce of self-restraint to keep yourself from mewling and screaming as you burst in heat. And all the while, he’s groaning and rasping in your right ear. Shivers run down your back as he grunts harder in that sensitive spot against your neck. Erratic, hard thrusts jab deep inside you, his cock twitching as it pulses and fills you.

“That scent will make it harder for you to hide this time, you know my treasure,” he emphasizes with a deep breath right against your neck. “Your blood, my cum, your arousal… You’re such a mess, marked so well. There’s nowhere inside this palace I won’t be able to track you down, you know…”

You smirk, spinning in his arms to rest your back against the wall. “We’ll see about that…” you tease, breathless and overconfident. He just smirks, that edge of arousal and intrigue darkening the deep crimson of his narrowing eyes.

“I’m sure you’ll do your best, my darling little vampling,” he kisses your lips longingly, a little playful nip at the end, the mingling of iron on your tongues from your blood. He breaks away, eyes wide, frightening as he wraps his hand around your throat, your skin still slick from blood. “We have half an hour before we must depart for the evening, my pet. You had better not delay us, you know.”

“You wish me to let you win in that time so we remain… punctual?” you tease.

“I’m just stating the obvious,” he shakes his head very slowly as he smirks wide enough to bare his fangs, “I won’t be pleased if I have to leave without you just because you decided to be clever.”

“I… am… clever,” you taunt, tapping him on his nose with each insolent word.

Astarion pulls his hand away from your throat, eyes glinting, breath still. “Then I’ll let you get a head start, my clever girl…” he leans his fanged face into yours, “so you had better run.”

You stumble away, thighs slick as he watches you break out into the evening on the balcony again. He just laughs, your scent too strong in his nose. Voices from below call up to him, those guests wishing to impart a few more good wishes to their host before their departure for the next gathering. Astarion shoves his cock back in his trousers, perfecting his appearance before leering down at the nobles form over that thick railing. Those mortals so literally far beneath him. “A fair evening to you,” he calls with a flourish. “My lady and I will see you at the festivities anon. A few matters of home to wrap up before the evening, I’m afraid.”

He sniffs the air, the stink of these guests cloud his senses. Striding down the stairs, he tries to pick up your scent, but there are just too many bodies, too much stale wine and general stink. Once the door is shut to the palace, once he is truly alone, he tears through room after room, searching and sniffing. His mind tugs against yours. “Where are you… darling….?” he growls down your bond, but you know better than to answer. “Trying so hard to be clever, is that it?”

He sneers to himself as he sweeps silently through bedchambers and ballrooms and galleries. He presses against the walls at cracks and hidden doors to scent you within the tunnels. The clock starts to chime, and Astarion hisses in frustration. He hears the carriage rumbling outside the main doors.

“On the gods, darling,” he hisses outloud and down their bond. “If you don’t come out right now, I will be sorely disappointed.” He huffs, grabbing his gloves and cane perched neatly in the foyer. He pauses for a moment, tilting his pointed ear to listen to his palace, scanning his domain for her. “You think you’ve won?” he snips, irritated and irked as he starts out the door towards the waiting coach. It’s black paint trimmed with gold shines in the torchlight as night falls. “I assure, my darling, if you don’t come this moment to the coach for the evening’s gathering…”

He lets the threat hang in the air. Not even a tremor of a laugh from her end of their bond. Teeth grinding, he launches from the door into the gathering dark of night. He opens the carriage door with a shout for the driver to make haste. Before the door has even shut behind him, his team of raven black mares is off through the Upper City.

Astarion flops down on the elegantly cushioned seat of his coach. His cane in his hands nearly breaks in the strength of his angered grip. “How dare she…” he hisses into the dark as the carriage bumps and sways over the streets. That little window lets the wind whistle in. Usually he enjoys the breeze on his face, but now, tonight, it annoys the hells out of it. He slams it shut

Suddenly, without that breeze, a scent reaches his nose. Blood… arousal…

“Oh… my love…” your voice tickles his mind.

The couch sways around a corner, something shuffling near his feet. A hand shoots up to grab the hem of his jacket, yanking him towards the floor.

“Darling…” he purrs down at you as your eyes lock into his, your fangs must be glinting in the dim light in the carriage.

“I win,” you gloat, your body pinned beneath him on the floor of your carriage. His legs are already spreading yours, hands already roughly pulling your skirts up to your waist, yet you feel like the victor. The prey finally catches the predator in her neat little trap.

“Clever little consort, setting her snare so neatly for me to wind up between your legs…” he rasps, his body bumping and swaying against you in time with the movements of your coach. But then he begins to add a few more deliberate thrusts of his clothed and hardened cock against your already used and soaking folds. “What is the prize you wish to claim, my treasure?”

“You know my favorite prize,” you purr, catching the edge of his pointed ear in your mouth for a suck, one that deafens him for the moment from the rumble of your coach. A moan slips out from his lips far louder than would be dignified.

His ear slips from your mouth as he turns his head, a snarl in Astarion’s throat as he catches your chin. “Then it is everything you shall receive…” he growls, “when I decide to finally give it to you…” he teases you darkly, those hips grinding against your folds mercilessly. He’s heavy on your core, the bumping and jostling of the carriage stealing your breath as he sometimes times his thrusts with the unpredictable up-down. It only makes him laugh harder and capture your lips in his when he squashes you so completely.

“Maybe if you had just played the game properly, you wouldn’t be feeling so trapped like the little prey you are for me, my little treat…” he nips into your neck, just a small bite. Enough to draw blood by the mouthful for him to feast on.

“I did play, and I won,” you chuckle low in your throat, reaching between our hips to blatantly touch myself. “Maybe it’s time you paid respects to the victor this round?” You tease him, acerbic and haughty as he hears your fingers toying through your own slick.

Astarion gives that low and wicked laugh, relishing your defiant spirit. “I don’t think you want anything respectful done with you…. Do you my treasure?” He can’t stiffle a groan as he teases his own cock head through your sopping seam. Over the rattling of your wooden coach cobblestones, you hear the wet sounds of him playing inside you. It sends shivers down your spine and makes you bite your lips enough to draw your own blood to paint your lips scarlet.

You groan, the carriage lurches around a corner making you both roll to the side. A wicked laugh in your throat, you take full advantage of the surprise. Momentum swings you around, until you are the one on top, in a second, a little rise of your hips, and you sink his cock deep inside you.

Astarion bares his fangs and hisses at the sudden warmth and wet that sucks him in, his head now bouncing on the floor. You ride him mercilessly. “Such a good prize you are…” you tease him, gripping his chin to make him look at you. “Nothing like having the Vampire Ascendant at my mercy for once,” you flaunt your victory.

“You think yourself so clever and….” he starts, but you press a finger against his mouth before sticking two of them inside his mouth as you shush him.

“Hush,” you smirk, glowing in your moment of power. You swirl your fingers around his mouth, grazing over his wet and sucking tongue, pricking your skin on his razor-fangs. “Just let your clever Consort have this victory once,” you smile, pouting down at him a bit as you pull your fingers from his salivating lips.

“Very well, my darling,” he growls, “but at least you could let your loving Ascendant lord sit up so his head isn’t addled by the roads.”

You snicker, “Of course. We wouldn’t want to have your mind any more befuddled by my glorious win.” Your smirk is feral and arrogant. You ease off of him, watching with a knowing and careful eye as he slides himself up to rest against the door of the carriage.

He tosses his head, your bodies still joined perfectly, the coach still rocking with that extra, insatiable friction that moves your sexes on their own. He smirks as you ride over a massive bump, one that fairly throws you into the air to slide down his cock with more force than you can give. You gasp as it makes you land squarely on him, cock head slamming your cervix.

The grin on his face grows delightfully sadistic as it twists those sharp features. You see his ears twitching as he listens closely to the rumbles of the coach, smirk winding higher as he lifts you up in time with the coach to slam you back down as it falls….

You grit your teeth and scream through them with a smile as he fills you, sharp and suddenly. “Get riding, my clever treasure,” he chuckles as he pulls you in for a kiss, “or these roads and I will do it for you.”

You give him a glare, more amorous than angry, your mouth slack as you buck your hips with abandon. You bite your lip as you move, the vibrations of the coach send you barreling towards your bliss so quickly. Hard and fast, your hands grip into the stitching of his jacket, his breath hot at the base of your neck. His gaze burns your skin, watching the way your breasts jiggle and move right before his eyes as you are thrown around, at the mercy of the coach’s movements.

He groans, the pressure so great inside you both, you feel it searing between you and crashing down your mental bond. With one breath, you clench around him, his hands grip into your waist to keep you steady as he tries to snap his hips. It bursts inside you, the pressure and pleasure erupting through your core as you reach your peaks as one. He places a breathless kiss on the soft skin of your bosom. “I do so love when you win too, my perfect prey and equal hunter…” he pants against your flesh. “I’ll gladly let you claim your victory from me…” his left brow arches rakishly and teasing, “but only when you’ve earned it, my darling…”

“Hmmm,” you hum, irritated and yet shivering in pleasure. “Just admit, I’m just as good…”

Suddenly the carriage rumbles to a stop, and you lock eyes with Astarion. Voices approach from behind the door, and your two sets of crimson eyes flare wide a moment before the door pulls open behind him.

He grunts as he spills backward, unceremoniously dangling out the door. His head hangs over the edge of the coach, his fanged smile wide and grinning as he stares into the crow upside down, while your hands grabbing furiously at your skirts to hide your sexes still throbbing and intertwined. He laughs that low and rumbling giggle, quite the sight as other guests pause to stare at the Vampire Ascendant indulging within his own private coach. “Well,” he chortles, sitting up to give a bit of privacy as you slide off his lap, “there isn’t any use hiding our love any longer…” Astarion nips at your neck playfully as he refastesns his trousers. “If they sought a glimpse into the loving depravities of the Ascendant and his consort, they certainly found it.”

You giggle, the rush of being so on display racing through your nerves. Carefully you follow him out of the coach, both of you straightening your clothes as if nothing happened. “And you wanted to play your games thinking tonight would be boring,” you rasp into his ear.

He stops in the middle of the grave path and pulls you hard into him, his kiss all lips and fangs and tongue down your throat. Hiding nothing of your passion from the spectators. “Nothing is boring when I’m with you.”

[miniwheat77]

By Nature, She’s Naughty. (141 x Reader.)

THIS IS THE GANGBANG VERSION TO "LUST". I ADDED A TINY BIT MORE BACKSTORY BECAUSE I WANTED TO XD

You can find the original mutual masturbation story here

!CW! NSFW, smut, gang bang, rough sex, overstimulation, squirting, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, 141 being great at aftercare, (lemme know if I missed any)

(Summary): 141 finds out how wild Y/N was in her youth.

I’m referring to Captain Price as John and Soap as Johnny just in case there’s any confusion.

The hot cup of coffee to your lips settles the boiling anger flowing through you. An annoyed sigh leaves your lips and you hear a laugh behind you. "Something funny John?" You spin around and send him a glare. "No, not at all sweetheart." He raises his hands in surrender. "Thought so." You roll your eyes. Everyone slowly begins to file into the meeting room. Sitting around the massive Oak table for their next assignment. "Y/N, what are you doing here?" Gaz asks. "On the next assignment with you guys." You smile. "Tread carefully boys, she's grouchy when she's woken up too early." You raise the cup of coffee. "This right here will save you all from your impending doom." You joke.

"For someone so young you think you'd be able to run on much less sleep." Soap laughs. "Yeah, I partied all of the youngness out of me. Believe it or not." You laugh. Soap tilts his head. "Partier huh? You'll have to tell us about it sometime." He winks. You roll your eyes. "Yeah right, I barely remember any of it. Cocaine is a hell of a drug." You kick your feet up on the table, only for Captain Price to immediately shove them off. "Wait, really?"

"For legal reasons I'm not answering that." You smirk. John rolls his eyes. "I've heard the stories from Laswell. She's done some pretty crazy shit." You smile at him. He had no issues selling you out. "I know Laswell did some pretty crazy stuff too so she better be careful telling you my business." You laugh. "You too Captain, she's told me about all kinds of things." You send him a wink, making him shake his head in retaliation. "Anyways." He clears his throat. "Onto this next mission." He starts.

—

The wind blew harshly against your clothes. The mask you wore helped shield your skin from the harsh sand beating against you. "This sucks." You roll your eyes. "Not too bad actually. Better sand than bullets." Gaz shrugs. "Yeah, if you're a pussy." You wink. He rolls his eyes. "Takes one to know one." He nudges you. "Pay attention." Your Captain snaps. "Yes sir." You salute him sarcastically but he can't see it. You really shouldn't be giving him this much attitude but you are. "I'm beginning to think we're lost Captain." Soap says. "Yeah, me too." He rolls his eyes. "Seems like Laswell sent us on a death run. You do something to piss her off Captain?" You joke. "Hope not. If I did, none of us are leaving here." He laughs. "So all of those people back there, what do you think they were?" Gaz asks. "Not sure, I just hope there isn't any more of them." He continues. "Don't think so. Looked more like a wannabe group of Al Qatala. Not many weapons, not very guarded buildings." You shrug. "True."

Finally, after a few hours of walking, you find yourself walking upon an old abandoned house. The inside was caved in a little bit, only two rooms were still intact, the living area and the kitchen. Sand had flooded the inside and you were each left crammed into one room. Captain Price was in the living area on the radio with Laswell, and the rest were crowding the kitchen, looking to see what they could find. When his conversation was over, he makes his way into the kitchen. "Laswell sent us in the wrong direction by accident. Thinks it was intentional because Al Qatala is leading us the wrong direction because they're doing something they're not supposed to be doing." Everyone nods. "Exfil can't get to us until morning so settle in."

Those were your Captain’s instruction, so everyone did. You took up one small corner of the living area. There was an old couch, and everyone had set up around you, almost in a circle. All you had was a sleeping bag and an emergency blanket for comfort so you laid them both out. It was still too warm so you were sitting on top of it. You tried getting comfortable but it was a little hard. Everyone had a couple emergency MRE’s and first aid kits. You tended to your wounds, patched up, and ate one of the MRE’s.

“I don’t have sweats or extra clothes in my bag so you’ll all just have to be okay with me sleeping in my boxers.” Soap calls out.

“That’s fine, no one cares.” You reply. “Use a buddy system if you have to go outside for any reason.” Your captain calls. He’s laying on his own sleeping bag a couple feet from you. Soap starts removing his clothes, tucking them near his bag and laying down. The room fills with an awkward silence and everyone shifts uncomfortably. It was clear no one would be getting much rest tonight. A deep sigh brings everyone out of their own thoughts. “Maybe we should do something. Like.. play a game.” Soap says. “What, like one of those ridiculous games we played in grade school?” You laugh. “You got any better ideas?” Soap rolls his eyes. “Not really. I’m in.” You shrug.

“Truth or dare?”

“Can’t really do many dares, Soap.” You laugh. He smiles. “Alright alright, truth or truth?” You laugh, sitting up in your sleeping bag. Everyone follows suit. “I think I seen some old bottles of vodka in the kitchen. Maybe we can do a drinking game like never have I ever.” Gaz suggests. You nod your head, standing up. “Captain could probably pick out good liquor. He’d be able to tell which is good to drink and what’s bad.” You smile. “Damn right little lady.” John pushes past you, you follow him into the dingy kitchen and he opens up a couple cupboards, finding 2 unopened bottles of liquor. Gin and Vodka. “Alright. We’ll just pass around the bottle.” You nod your head. “Before we start I’m ditching my clothes too.” You complain. They were dirty and had blood all over them. “Yeah me too.” Gaz complains. Pretty soon everyone is just sitting in their undergarments. Most of you were pretty beat up. Bandages and cuts and bruises all over.

Each of you form a circle and John picks up a bottle.

“Alright so.. if you don’t already know, never have I ever works like this. Someone asks a question, and if you’ve done it, you drink, if you haven’t, you don’t.” You explain. Everyone nods.

“Alright, I’ll go first. A warm up question.” Gaz sits up. “Never have I ever… been stuck in a dingy house in the middle of a desert.”

Each of you pass around the bottles of liquor.

“Bloody hell that is shite.” Captain Price flinches. He lowers the bottle of gin from his lips and shivers. “Steamin Jesus that is horrible.” Soap laughs, passing the bottle of vodka to you. You take it, tipping it back. Flinching as you set it down. The burn coursing through you. “Alright. Soap, your turn.” Soap laughs. “Alright uh..” he pauses, thinking to himself. “Never have I ever gotten into a fight.”

Everyone passes around the bottles again.

This goes on for a few more times and everyone is starting to feel buzzed, loosening up. “Okay, Y/N.”

“Never have I ever had a dirty dream about someone in this room.” You smile. “Ooooh. That’s a good one.” Gaz laughs. Your captain, Soap, and Ghost each take a drink.

The game goes on like this until most of the liquor is gone. Everyone had been targeting you, trying to figure out what exactly you had done as a teenager. They dug deep to figure out just how wild you'd been in your youth.

Eventually everyone settles into their own little worlds. Playing on their phones, reading. Or just relaxing. The same tension is still thick in the room, everyone can read it. “Alright. I hate this. Let’s try something else.” Your Captain says, sitting up. “What do you mean?” Gaz laughs, taking a breath. “I was thinking we find another way to relieve some tension.”

“What, a gang bang?” Gaz jokes. “Hate to break it to you cap, but I don’t think poor Y/N could handle that.” Your mouth props open and your cheeks burn. “I like your taste Garrick, but that’s not what I meant. I mean.. similar. But.. less hands on.” Ghost pulls off his mask, this wasn’t the first time you’d each seen his face. “Are you suggesting we.. touch ourselves?” Soap asks. John nods his head. Everyone steals glances at each other. "What makes you think I wouldn't be able to handle it, Kyle?" You smirk at Gaz, his eyes widening. "I just assumed. You talk a big game but don't have the will to back it up." He shrugs. You pick up the bottle of Vodka, tipping what's left in the bottle back. Swallowing it all down and setting it back down. You wipe your lips off and send him another evil smile. "Try me Garrick." You cross your arms. "You know what. I think we should. Fuck the attitude right out of her." Ghost smirks. One of the only things he's said all day. "Yeah, she has been giving everyone attitude all day." Soap glances at you. Right now is where you began to get nervous. It was four against one right now. You were for sure losing no matter what. The thought of all four of them using you to pleasure themselves makes butterflies swarm in your stomach. "Earth to Y/N." your Captain waves in your face. "Y-yeah, sorry. What?"

"You want to do it or not?" He smiles. "Uh.. yeah. Yeah I do."

"It's going to be a lot." He smiles. "I know."

"Before we start, I want to make a safe word." You nod your head at his suggestion. "Okay. How about 'Stop'?" Gaz suggests. "Sounds good. You know how a safe word works, right sugar?" He asks. You nod your head. "Alright. Let's get started." His hands wrapping around your thighs and tugging you toward him, laying on your back on the ground as he eagerly pulls your panties down your legs. Revealing your most delicate parts to everyone in the room. On show for them and fuel for whatever filthy fantasies are going through each of their heads right now. Your bra is next, Ghost unclasping it almost too quickly, incriminating himself just a little bit with the move. Your Captain decides to take it easier on you in the start. Helping stretch you out and prep you. He spits on his fingers, opening you up. A moan leaves your lips and you prop yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. You notice Kyle is now fully naked, moving to your left. He pushes your chest down so that you're laying on your back. "Relax." He smiles. Simon joins your other side, Johnny at your head. "You're gonna be a good girl for us right?" Johnny smirks. You nod your head, having no real response to that. This was happening, really happening. "Nothing smart to say?" John says. You smile, but say nothing. You think about saying something sarcastic but choose not to, considering it looked like he was going first. Your smile fades when you feel the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance, disappearing between your folds. Your eyes shut tightly, a moan leaving your lips. "Shit, stretching her a lot Cap." Kyle laughs. "Yeah, probably should've stretched her a little more huh." He laughs. "Oh fuck!" A whine leaving your lips as you clutch at Johnny and Kyle’s thighs. Kyle laughs. Hand moving up the shaft of his cock, slicking it up with his spit. Johnny's fingertips glide over your cheeks and you tilt your head back to look up at him. "Fuck.. Look so pretty looking up at me like that sweetheart." He smiles. He moves his hips forward, cock nudging at your mouth and nose. You waste no time, taking him into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the tip. "Oh fuck!" he gasps, hips jerking back.

He relaxes a second, only just now realizing how long it'd been since he had done this. You reach upward, wrapping your hands around his thighs and forcing him to stay still as you took him down further. By now, John was fucking into you. He wasn't going too fast, giving you even more time to adjust to his size. Once you're sure Johnny will stay still, you reach your hands out. You can hear the squelch of Simon and Kyle jerking off, so you stop them, taking them into your hands. "Shit, maybe I was wrong." Kyle laughs. “Maybe you can take it.” He groans. Thrusting his hips into your hand. You moan around Johnny, John sliding right into your spongy spot, he’s got a death grip on your thighs and your hips buck. “Fuck.. like when you moan around my cock like that sweetheart.” Johnny glides his hand over your throat. He takes hold of you, holding you still so that he can thrust into your mouth, trying not to be too rough. John moans out, feeling you tighten around him. “Fuck.. so fucking tight.” He moans. He relaxes himself. He’s worked up, approaching his orgasm too fast for his liking. He slows his thrusts, pinning your hips to the ground and taking slow deep thrusts into you. “She’s fucking tight-“ he groans. “So fucking good.” He tilts his head down, watching his cock disappear inside of you. “Doing so good for us Princess. So much better than I thought you would.” Kyle laughs, fingertips gliding over your chest at an attempt to soothe you. Your heart was pounding and your skin was bright red and warm. Already so worked up. He lets out a deep chuckle. A taunt. “She’s good at this too.” Johnny groans out, tilting his head back too look at the ceiling. Having to force himself to think about something other than your lips around him. “Got a lot of experience hm? Little slut.” Johnny swats your breast, earning a moan from you. You squirm when he squeezes it, fingertip gliding over your nipple. John felt himself growing closer and closer to the edge of his orgasm. Working through it. “Fuck- fuck.” He gasps. He groans. You’re wet around him, soaking the base of his cock. He admires it.

Johnny slides out of your mouth for just a second, and you gasp in a breath of air, followed by a “I’m gonna cum!” Before Johnny holds you still. “Fuck- me too.” John groans. “Me too.” Johnny’s eyes roll back. Kyle chuckles. “Gonna make them both cum sweetheart. Such a filthy fucking girl. Fucking your Captain and sucking your Sergeant off too.” Kyle leans down, attaching his lips to your nipple, lowering a hand to rub at your clit. He’s running quick circles over it, and you cry out around Johnny’s cock, nearly choking when he ruts his hips into you, pushing himself as far into your throat as you could take and cumming deep inside your throat. John pulls out of you quickly, earning a mewl from you at the loss of your orgasm. Pumping his cock quickly until he coats his hand and your stomach in a layer of his cum. When he cums, it’s sexy. He doesn’t try to hide how good he’s feeling, panting, groaning. When all of their hands are off of you, and Johnny has slid out of your mouth, you’re panting hard. Eyes are watering and your skin is beat red. “How are you doing sweetheart? Can you take it?” Your Captain smirks. Your nod your head lazily and he laughs at this. So pathetic and used already and they’d only just begun. Kyle swaps spots with John, and Simon trades with Johnny. Giving himself a minute before he fucks you. You jerk his cock lazily, same with John. They were both sensitive as they’d just climaxed. Taking this as a moment to relax. “See if I can’t make you cum hm? I know how bad you want it.” Kyle smiles. You lay back, hair damp with sweat as you look up at Simon, forcing your eyes not to widen at his massive size. A deep chuckle leaves his lips, causing chills to raise on your skin. “S’alright, no need to be nervous.” His deep voice puts you in a trance and you look up at him. “Such a pretty girl hm? If you can’t take it all, that’s alright. Just as long as you try f’me.” He smiles. You take a deep breath, adjusting the way you’re laying for a second, opening your legs up for Kyle. He bites his lip at this. Still ready for more.

He wonders if you’ll still be by the end of this.

Kyle’s tip pokes at your entrance and he’s a little more rough than your Captain, starting in fast. The sound of his hips slapping into yours echoes throughout the room, cries leaving your lips at the intensity until Simon leans forward. You swallow down the moans, opening your mouth for him. You’re ready for it, and his thick cock glides into your mouth. You release John and Johnny, forming a death grip on the sleeping bag beneath you. You suck hard at Simons cock as he fucks your throat, breasts bouncing with every hard thrust Kyle takes. “Want this pussy cumming on my cock.” Kyle growls. He’s holding both of your thighs tightly, hips hammering into yours. John rubs gentle circles on your clit, Johnny leaning forward to suck at one of your nipples, fingers gliding over the other. You’re crying out around Simon and he’s struggling to keep himself together. You’re sucking hard and the vibrations from your moans feel so good. He lowers one of his hands, fingers rolling his balls around, stimulating himself even more. Kyle’s teeth are gritted, John was right. You’re wrapped tightly around him, your body naturally milking his cock. You were made for this. Made for pleasuring them. You’re swallowing down gags, you don’t want them to notice your weakness, not even for a second. Simon grits his own teeth, clutching your hands over the sleeping bag. He’s mumbling to you. The others can’t hear it too well, but you can. Strings of moans and curses are leaving his lips. “Such a good girl.. like sucking my big cock, don’t you?” He chuckles when you moan around him. Knowing you can’t answer his questions. He’s stretching at your lips. A sting that you find yourself loving. “Mmm… doing so good. Getting me so close.” Simon releases your hands, you return them to pump at the others’ cocks. Earning groans from both of them. So sensitive, yet still ready for more. He’s more rough than he intends to be, holding you still by your hair and fucking himself into your throat. Watching you turn a deep shade of crimson, choking on his cock. “Oh fuck- just a- just a second longer sweet girl. Take my cock. Take it- Agh!” Simons hips buck, cumming down your throat just as Johnny had earlier. “Jesus LT-“ Johnny laughs. You take in a deep breath when he pulls away, the color fading from your face from having your air cut off. You’re panting, the black dots that had clouded your vision are slowly starting to disappear, the numbness in your body felt amazing, the buzzing in your head blocked everything out. The only thing you seemed to be able to feel was Kyle’s hips slamming into yours.

You’re moaning out, cries and whimpers leaving your lips each time he hammers into your cervix. You prop yourself up, eyes burning into Kyle’s as he fucks into you. He bites his lip hard, hips not stopping for even a second. You reach your hand down, rubbing at your clit, maybe a little harder than you intend. “Fuck.. think she’s about to cum.” John laughs. “She likes that, look at her.” Your hips buck up, eyes rolling back as your body lurches forward. Kyle tilts his head back, “fuck I’m gonna cum.” Kyle’s thrusts slow, and he’s taking hard thrusts into you, riding out your orgasm. When you fingers drop from your clit to clutch the sleeping bag, John replaces them. Earning a few cries from you at the overstimulation. “Oh- fuck!” Kyle gasps out. He slides out of you too, coating your stomach in his cum just like his Captain had. It was time for the next rotation. You were worn out, eyes heavy. Body numb and throbbing. Beads of sweat coated your body and your heart thumped through you. The room buzzed and felt way hotter than earlier. “Need another drink before I fuck her. Johnny is next.” Simon growls, standing up. He was last, and was by far going to be the biggest, you were nervous thinking about it.

Johnny swaps with Kyle, John moving up by your head. It was his turn to feel those pretty lips wrapped around him. “How about we try something else sweetheart?” Johnny smiles. “On your hands and knees f’me baby.” He pats your thigh. You listen, legs wobbling as you move. “Are you alright, Princess?” John asks. You nod your head. John smiles. “No more attitude out of you Hm?” He pushes your hair out of your face, a gasp leaving your lips as Johnny slides into you, grasping hold of your hips as he starts fucking you. John laughs, leaning in to press his forehead to yours. He smiles. Eyes looking into yours. “Am I a good girl Captain?” You smile. “Yeah, doing so good for us.” John’s cock is rock hard again, hearing you say that. Asking if you’re a good girl. It makes him want to bust right there. “Are you ready for more baby? Ready to taste my cock?” You nod your head eagerly. “Such a good girl for me.” He groans out as you lower yourself. He lifts himself up onto his knees, cock level with your mouth. You take him into you, body jolting with each thrust Johnny takes. Kyle squeezes at your breasts, fingertips gliding over your skin to soothe you like he had done before. He knew they were overwhelming you. But you were almost done, and you were proving him wrong. So so wrong. Johnny’s head is tilted back, hearing your moans have been muffled by his Captain’s cock. His cock was overstimulated, but he was still going. The sensitivity makes the sex feel so much better. So much more intense as your body clenches down onto him, relaxing. You can feel another knot building in your stomach, and Johnny can tell. The way you’re clenching around him sells you out. Kyle is running circles over your clit steadily, even with the shaking from Johnny’s thrusts. Simon sits on the couch, bottle of Gin in hand. He’s watching. Your body is so stimulated. Mouth full of cock, cock buried in your pussy. Nipples and clit being stimulated. Your hands are clutching at the ground beneath you. You’re fighting off another orgasm, he can tell from where he’s sitting. If Johnny doesn’t make you cum, Simon would. By the way Johnny’s thrusts are getting sloppy, he’s not going to get you to another. A smile plays at Simons lips. He was about to make you see another fucking world.

Sure, he was a little cocky about it. But he was waiting to go last for a good reason. He’d stretch you more and wanted you to be completely ready.

You swallow down every last bit of cum that your Captain has to give. His hips buck into you, and you try hard not to gag. He relaxes, your head hanging as you cry out. Johnny’s thrusts are sloppy and you know he won’t be able to make you finish, you’re too overwhelmed. Johnny releases a loud gasp, sliding out of you just in time as he pumps his cock hard, orgasm spilling out onto your backside. You collapse onto your stomach, body weak and numb. Kyle laughs. “M’tapping out sweetheart. You’re all Simons now.” Simon stands up from the couch, setting down the empty bottle of gin. He kneels down by your legs, helping you roll into your back. Chuckling at how weak you are. “You remember our safe word right honey?” He smirks. You nod your head weakly. “What is it?”

“Stop.” You croak. He smiles, “can you take more?” You nod your head weakly. “Just lay back and relax. They’re going to take care of you.” You nod your head. A sigh leaves your lips as you lay back. Simon folds one of your legs over the other until you’re on your side. He lifts one of your legs higher, spitting on his hand and rubbing it over your pulsing entrance. As fucked out as you are, you’re still desperate to cum again. Simon starts to glide into you and your mouth falls open. “Oh my god!” You suck in a harsh breath. “It’s okay sweetheart.” John rubs a hand over your hair. They’re all watching Simon stretch you. “Stretching me so much-“ a sob leaves your lips. Simon bites down on his lip, trying not to thrust right into you until you’re crying. Tears start to slide down your face, so overstimulated. But it feels so good. Better than anything you’ve ever felt before. “Ah-“ you move your leg until you’re laying on your back again, pushing down onto Simon, and he groans when he prods at your cervix, bottoming out into you. “Someone’s eager.” He chuckles. When he takes his first thrust, your head falls back into John’s lap. He chuckles, “you’ve got a safe word baby. Don’t forget.” You shake your head. Earning a smile from him. “Doing so good for Simon baby. So good.” He chuckles, running his fingers through your damp hair. He draws his hips back, thrusting into you again. A moan leaving your lips. They didn’t get to hear too much of it before. Your mouth was full. Your moans are perfect and they egg Simon on. He starts to be a little more rough, hips hammering into yours until your body is jumping with each one he takes. Simon won’t last long, but that doesn’t matter.

Because neither will you.

His thick cock brushes right up against your spongy spot, and your eyes roll back. Shutting tightly. “Ah! S-Simon- feels weird.” You whimper, “S’okay baby. Just let it happen.” John breathes, they all know what’s coming, stealing glances at each other with a smile. Your body began to shake, cries leaving your lips. You try to squirm but John holds you tight. Johnny moves forward, rubbing circles over your overstimulated nub. “A-Ah! I’m going to-“ a cry leaves your lips and Simon fucks you through it, body jerking hard as you reach your high, your arousal squirting out around Simon, fluids coating Simon as a scream leaves your lips. Simon groans, still fucking into you as he reaches his own high. “So fucking good. Fucking tight around me.” He grits his teeth. He knows he should pull out, but he doesn’t. “Agh- can’t fucking stop,” he growls. He takes a tight hold on your hips, burying his cock as deep as it’ll go and reaching his orgasm. Filling you to the hilt with his spunk.

Your body gives out completely, panting. You’re drenched in sweat and coated in bodily fluids. Most not even yours. Simon moans when he sees his cum spill back out of you. Pumping out with each pulse from your pussy. John let’s go of you, giving you a moment to relax. They all stand up, admiring their work. “I was wrong, she could take it.” Kyle laughs. Each of them standing around you like a pack of wolves, that’d just devoured their prey. Your eyes are heavy and don’t stay open for long. You fall asleep quickly, still nude and coated in fluid.

“Let’s clean her up, everyone else has clothes so she can sleep with Johnny.” They nod their heads, making a mutual agreement. You didn’t have back up clothes and neither did Johnny, which meant you could keep each other warm through the night. It was the desert. It would get freezing. With whatever wipes and clothes they didn’t need, they cleaned your skin off, using a damn cloth to wipe your face off before using it for the rest of your body, even between your legs so that you didn’t feel uncomfortable. They helped put your undergarments back on so that you wouldn’t wake up naked, and discarded your ruined emergency blanket with a mutual agreement to gift you another when they returned. “I found an extra hoodie in my bag, let’s put it on her too.” Gaz passes it to Johnny. He moves your body to slide it onto you. “M’gonna take her bra back off than. That can’t be comfortable. She complains about them every time she’s around.” Johnny laughs. “True.” He tucks your bra into your bag and unzips your sleeping bag for more warmth over the both of you.

He forces you awake for just a second for a drink of water and after, you’re fast asleep again. Johnny gets settled with you, pulling you into him so that the both of you are warm. Once everyone settles in, they turn their lights off.

The next morning, Johnny is shaking you awake. “Exfil is a mile out lass. Cmon.” You nod your head, going to stand up. Your legs buckle underneath you and Johnny laughs as he catches you. “Just sit there for a minute yeah?” He smiles. “Simon, I’ll take your bag. You get her.” He nods his head, moving closer. He passes Johnny his bag, kneeling down in front of you. You climb onto his back and he’s lifting you up. He has a hold of your thighs, your arms wrapped around his front. You were riding piggyback on him. They cover your bottom half with an emergency blanket, luckily Gaz’s hoodie was long and covered you as well. “Alright. One mile. Let’s do this.” They all nod.

You rest your head on Simons back, eyes growing heavy once again.

ask and you shall receive my babies XD

@shroomje @mothcelestial @lillianastuff

[crimsonbubble]

cw. nsfw, afab!bunny!reader, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), beard burn bc yes, clit play, praise *not proofread, just pure horny

[out here fucking and fighting my horny demons 💀💀 came up with this idea at 3am]

MINORS DNI!!

his beard brushed and pricked against your skin as you push his head to bury him further between your thighs. your nails are scratching lightly at his scalp as you tug on his hair, tears welling in your eyes with each thrust of his tongue in your sloppy cunt and each swirl of it over your sensitive clit.

price peered up at you quickly, moaning against your pussy as he watched how your face twisted in pleasure. his jaw is aching as he wrings out your second orgasm with his mouth. his fingers dig into the fat of your thighs as you clench them around his head with your impending orgasm.

a string of whimpers, hums, and gasps left your lips as you bucked your hips wildly against his mouth. he pulls away from your sticky cunt, breathing heavily as the bottom half of his face glistens in your juices. he sits up on his knees, wiping his mouth as he taps your inner thigh gently.

you swiftly turn onto your stomach, looking back at him over your shoulder, giving him a smug smile as you wiggle your hips. "you're gonna be the death of me, sweetheart." he let out a hoarse chuckle, flicking his fingers over your clit. with a bit more shuffling, price throws his pants to the floor, pooling them with your discarded clothes.

his hands smooth up your thighs to grab at your hips, gliding his fingers over your lower back and tugging at your cotton tail. you let out a sharp whine, your tail twitching as you grumble. price hummed as he tugged your tail again, distracting you from the slight burn as he buries his cock in your needy cunt. there's a sweet burn as he bottoms out, your body shivering when he fills you to the hilt.

"easy there, bunny." he holds your hips still as you try to grind and push back against him. his hips start slow, basking in your pulsing warmth around his cock. "fuckin' christ-" he throws caution to the wind as he tightens his grip on your hips, the air leaving your lungs as price picks up the pace so suddenly. your hands clutch the sheets, pressing your face into the pillow to muffle the overflow of high-pitched whines and cries.

price can't take his eyes off the way your tail wiggles with each reaction he pulls from you, straightening his back when you clench around him. his hands trail over your sides as he spears you open on his cock, leaning over your back. he pressed a hand to the pillow near your head, the other pressing against your lower stomach, lifting you back into him. "fuck, you're doin' so good for me."

he could feel your cotton tail twitch and wiggle against his naval, your floppy ears getting lost in the mess of your hair. you got lost in pleasure, your eyes rolling back as price angled his hips to hit your g-spot with each following thrust. your hands hurt from clutching the bedsheets so tightly, your body pushing back against him before you go still, running through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

[irisintheafterglow]

I Know I'll Be Living in Vain (gojo x you)

summary: you wake from a nightmare in a state of panic. he's there to ground you back in reality.

wc: 2.2k

cw/tags: hurt/comfort, established relationship with pet names (babe, baby, sweetheart, beautiful), gn reader, found family with megs and satoru, nightmares, panic attack, swearing, mentions of food and eating

notes: so this is part 1 of a little series i'll be doing surrounding the shibuya incident and gojo's uh...absence for all yall anime-only people. based on the song "I Don't Wanna Live Forever" by Taylor Swift and Zayn because it just fits??? so perfectly??? anyway hope you enjoy! this is also for all you found family lovers i see you and i understand you.

likes/reblogs/feedback is always appreciated <3

He feels it viscerally in his body at the same time you do, a wall of unfathomable malice that you were never supposed to feel in the first place. It’s heart stopping, the same realization of making a mistake that ricochets your life in an unpredictable direction. Dread sinks like an anchor into his stomach and he forces down the nauseous lump gathering in his throat. He tries to train his expression into blankness, but he knows better than to deceive the King of Curses. 

“Hmm…” Sukuna’s dark eyes narrow in concentration, thoughts elsewhere instead of the sorcerer in front of him. “Someone is…reading me.” A tense beat of stillness settled between the two fighters, out of place compared to the wasteland of a city that they treaded on. Then, in a blink, both him and Sukuna are gone, racing to get to you first. He’s an eighth of a second too slow and you feel vicious claws dig into the back of your neck from your seat on the ground. Electric blue eyes meet yours, wrought with despair and suppressed rage. You always loved that the most, how his eyes always seemed to give away what he was feeling even if he didn’t say anything. Flashes of memories flicker in your mind like stop-motion film, pulling him closer in your bedroom or intertwining your fingers on a walk back to the school. Every time you looked in his eyes, you could read him; you could read his sorrow, his grief, his wrath, his joy, his love. It was different, now, from any time you’d looked at him before. 

For the first time since you’d met him, Satoru’s eyes were filled with fear. 

You blink, scared to breathe or feel the ache in your legs after being crossed for too long. This was wrong. Everything was wrong. This wasn’t supposed to happen and this meeting would cause catastrophic consequences to the plan in place. First, the non-sorcerers would break from the trance you’d put them in. They would then panic within the confines of the veil, causing the sorcerers within to divert their attention to crowd control rather than exorcizing Curses. Civilian casualties were going to increase exponentially all because you were never supposed to read Sukuna. From the look on Satoru’s face, he knew it too, and he knew it was his fault that the confrontation entered your technique’s radius in the first place. It broke your heart to see him so distraught, overwhelmed by your impending death because he wasn’t careful enough.

“This your little friend, honored one?” Sukuna’s face is a cruel sneer; he knows having you puts Satoru on the defensive. “Well?” Your head is roughly pushed forward and you cry out, face contorting in pain and frustration as Satoru’s fist opens and closes anxiously. You wordlessly pleaded with him to just attack even if you got caught in the crossfire because, as much as he was on the defensive, Sukuna was underestimating his humanity and it left him vulnerable. But ultimately, you were in the wrong–you underestimate how much Satoru needs you. 

“I didn’t think you were one to get distracted, your majesty.” You catch the slightest waver in his voice as he attempts to appear uncaring about your situation. He wasn’t succeeding. 

“Nor did I think you would stop your attacks just because another sorcerer is in your way.”

“Maybe I’m catching my breath ‘cause I didn’t hold back before.”

“Then why do you choose to now?” 

“I’m just giving you some time before we go all out again. My mother always said I had pristine manners.” In any other scenario you would have burst out laughing at the sheer inaccuracy of that statement, but all you could do was choke out a sob of disbelief. His eyes flick to you again and the muscles in his jaw clench. “Beat me first and save your,” an elegant hand waves around aimlessly in a forced show of indifference, “prize for later.” You catch his nervous swallow as his body physically rejects referring to you as an object. 

Sukuna hums in faux-thoughtfulness before his grip tightens enough to draw blood. You gasp at the warmth now dripping down the sides of your neck. “You could have beat me at any point, you know, if you didn’t stop for one measly human.” He spits the last word like it tasted disgusting on his tongue. “For one so godly, you are disappointingly just…a man.”

“Spare their life or I’ll show you just how godly I am.” There’s no more aloofness in Satoru’s body language. He’d given up his asshole-exterior to desperately negotiate for your life. The world would end because Gojo Satoru loved you too much. 

You dodge his gaze like it was a plague and silently will him to stop looking at you, lest he jeopardize both of your positions. It was too late, though. Sukuna shakes his head, patronizingly clicking his tongue in distaste. Satoru’s initial hesitation upon seeing you had given too much away. “Pathetic. The honored one should know better than to waste time on emotional attachment.” 

You feel a scorching hot sensation on the back of your head before your eyes fly open and you shoot upright in bed, hand flying to your mouth to muffle the ragged exhales from your heaving chest. It’s impossible to stop trembling and you struggle out of bed, careful not to wake its other occupant. You’re barely able to make it to the bathroom and splash your face with frigid water before the adrenaline crashes into your body in the form of a strangled cry as you recollect your nightmare. It violently wracks your body in unnatural tremors that have you holding the edge of the sink for dear life, drowning in your own worsening spiral. It wasn’t the first time you’d experienced a nightmare like this, but what frightened you the most was how realistic it felt, especially considering the rumors running around this year’s Halloween. It takes you several minutes to regain control of your body, leaving your head aching from the fluorescent lights in the bathroom. After patting dry your sweat-sticky skin, you quietly re-enter your room to find Satoru awake and waiting for you. You’re grateful to the darkness, for once, because it almost hid your swollen eyes and incessant shaking…almost. 

“Hey, I’m sorry if I woke you.” You try to keep your voice even while you slip back under the covers and his arms instinctually pull you into him. Your body continues running hot and you wiggle free from the blankets, instead searching for his natural warmth. He definitely could hear your racing heart rate but you still force feed normalcy into your words. “You can go back to sleep now. I just needed to pee. Too much water before bed, you know?” It’s quiet for a time and you sigh in relief, thinking you’d successfully fooled your excessively protective boyfriend. You’re on the edge of falling back into unconsciousness when his low voice grounds you back into reality. 

“You had a nightmare.” With eyes still shut, your breath hitches despite the relaxingly lazy circles he traces on your back. “I know you’re still awake, by the way. You breathe differently when you sleep.” You fight down the impulse to teasingly call him a creep and keep your eyes closed. Trying the silent route again, his calming touch abruptly pulls away as does the rest of his body. Groaning in frustration, you surrender and bury yourself further into his chest, muttering how you hated him and his stupid tricks. He huffs out a lighthearted chuckle, fingers returning to work on your skin as you finally look up at him. “Talk to me, beautiful.” 

“It was just a bad dream. I’m fine.” 

“You’re just as terrible of a liar as a fake-sleeper. It’s a good thing you became a sorcerer and not an actor.” He smirks when you glare up at him, eyes shining with triumph at pushing your buttons. 

“If you’re gonna be an asshole, then get out. I’ll call Suguru and Shoko to cuddle me instead.” You flip over and begin crawling out of bed again when lean limbs snake around your body, caging you against him with both his arms and his legs. He breathes an exhausted sigh against your neck that gives you goosebumps. Guess joking-Satoru had enough of your antics.

“I know the difference between when you have a bad dream and when you have a nightmare. Bad dreams don’t have you bolting up and stifling sobs in the bathroom because you think I can’t hear them. I hear them, every single time. It breaks me, you know?” Your heart pangs in sharp guilt but he only pulls you closer. “Please, baby. Talk to me.” You let him rotate your body so that your head rests on his chest and you inhale the unwaveringly strong presence of him. 

“I dreamt something went wrong during an attack on a city. I was evacuating and you were fighting Sukuna and…” Your voice cracks as you relive the dream in your mind’s eye, wincing when you remember the all-too-real look on Satoru’s face as you die. “Sukuna got to me.” His arms tighten around your body and you squeeze your eyes shut to block out the flood of bad dreams that unlocked as a result of this single nightmare. “And I really don’t fucking know, I just–”

“Do you remember that time we took Megumi to a splash pad? Tsumiki was at her first sleepover and we stole him away for the weekend.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sudden change in the conversation and you look at him, only to see him staring off into the ceiling. “Yeah? I mean, we stole him away for a lot of weekends. Why do you–”

“He hated that place with every fiber of his tiny body.” His eyes fondly flutter shut, pretty mouth curling into a grin. “I remember we had to bribe him with ginger chicken just to get him to stand near one of those fountains. It was for the greater good, though, since I think the universe was trying to roast us alive during that summer.”

You smile at the image of little Megs’ frown and crossed arms as he reluctantly steps closer to the brightly colored water structures, arguing the water is freezing. From your lawn chair in the shade, you remind him that the water was the whole point of bringing him there, to which he further scowled in protest. At some point, both you and Satoru ended up with soaked clothes after running around the playground to escape the unbearable heat, with Megumi finally playing too after your boyfriend slipped and fell. When you asked Satoru why he didn’t use Infinity to avoid getting wet, he shrugged and explained that it was more fun feeling shivery and cold with you. One of your favorite memories of the day came after losing to him in a slide race where he definitely cheated, when you had to stand under a bucket that tipped over once filled with water. But, a second before the bucket could tip, Megumi yanked Satoru’s arm toward you and all three of you ended up getting drenched. “Did we actually end up getting him ginger chicken? I thought we warped back to the school.”

“Mhmm, we did. I was the one who drove across the city to get it in your beat-up sedan.” The corner of his mouth quirks in lighthearted indignance.

Your jaw drops in realization and you can’t help giggling as the memories click into place. After deciding warping was a better alternative than getting your car wet, Satoru went to get your car and drove it back to Jujutsu Tech after all three of you dried off. You put on some random movie for Megs to watch in Satoru’s room and called to ask about dinner, only for him to say he already had it and was pulling into the parking lot. You three ate dinner cross legged on Satoru’s bed and ended up falling asleep there too. “Hey, that beat-up sedan got us lots of places before we started warping everywhere.” 

“Yeah, and it could probably handle every circle of Hell if you needed it to. It would need a new left blinker, though.” 

You lightly poke him in the side and he yelps. “Because you backed it into a telephone pole!” 

“That’s your fault for letting me drive in the first place, sweetheart.”

“You are a menace to society, Gojo Satoru.”

“This menace to society got your mind off that shitty nightmare.” Oh. That’s what he was doing. “Your silence tells me I’m correct.” Your continued stunned silence must be interpreted as contradiction and he’s quick to backtrack on his declaration. “Or at least in the ballpark–” 

“Shh, yes. Yes, you are correct.” You place a finger on his lips to stop his words and close your eyes against his chest, clinging to the happy memories with Satoru and Megumi to force out the intruding scenes from your nightmare. “You really amaze me, do you know that?”

“Sounds like you have a crush on me.” 

“Worship the ground I walk on, Satoru,” you state flatly but can’t help smiling through the end of it. His soft laugh vibrates against your face as you finally start to drift into sleep again, this time confident you could keep the nightmares at bay.  

“I already do.”

[starrierknight]

𝟎𝟐𝟐. 𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞

“Each of us is born with a box of matches inside us, but we can't strike them all by ourselves.” ― Laura Esquivel, Like Water for Chocolate

KINKTOBER 23' | 𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓* | AO3

*this fic is in media res

wc— 6.3k

pairing— yandere!dom!gn!reader x defected!sub!getou

cws/tags— dead dove: do not eat, yandere/darling dynamic, erotomania, dubcon, mind break, restraints (ropes — shibari), death threats, bodily harm threats, gaslighting/manipulation, heavy sadism/masochism, knife play, manhandling, pain play (scratching + hair pulling), humiliation, dacryphilia + drool, spit as lube, handjob, edging, suguru fantasises about fucking you, frottage, cumming untouched, praise, pet names: “(my) darling” + “good boy”, dialogue-heavy

You stalked over to Suguru, taking the knife out of the back of your shoe, the embodiment of jealous fervour. Your fingers tightened around the knot of ropes at the centre of his shoulder blades, tugging him upright. He heaved and gasped, his face contorting in a mix of fear and confusion when he spotted the gleaming blade in your hand.

"What?! W-What are you doing?!" Panic laced his voice, evident in the wide-eyed terror that flickered across his expression. 

Who would protect his loved ones? His body tensed, arms and legs twitching, desperate to escape the impending threat. What would happen to them if he couldn't endure whatever ordeal awaited him? Imminent danger materialised with the knife in your hand. Some type of torture? Did that mean you were going to kill him? The room closed in. He had people to save, damn it!

"Where the fuck is it, Suguru?"

“I don’t understand,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Your initial chuckle morphed into a peal of chilling laughter, your head swaying on your shoulders. Your lip trembled as you screeched, "Where the hell is it, my one and only?!" 

Your chest heaved and your blood coursed hotly through your veins like lit gasoline, fueling your temper. The air, hot and suffocating, rushed in and out of your lungs, each exhale a smouldering release.

Where could it be? The words, the tattoo, the declaration? Was the man before you truly your one and only? Was he the illustrious figure you had adored from the shadows all these years? The questions echoed in the caverns of your mind, each reverberation stoking the flames of your incendiary anger.

Inhale. The air, thick and acrid, seared your throat as it surged through you. Your chest expanded with the intensity of a furnace.

No, there had to be a reasonable explanation. Suguru would never willingly choose this. He loved you; he had always loved you. Conviction burned in your thoughts, a desperate attempt to anchor yourself in the belief. The man bound before you was your cherished one. He had to be.

Exhale. A low growl escaped your lips, flames licking at the edges of your composure. Beads formed on your brow and palms, glistening like molten droplets.

It was probably that damned cult of his, wasn’t it? They were jealous, coveting him for themselves. They had stolen him from you, tearing him away from the love and devotion he owed you.

Yet, like fire, jealousy can both illuminate and destroy.

Your fingers trembled uncontrollably as they clutched the knife, the cold steel vibrating. The hilt felt slick in your grasp. The cool reality of the blade danced with the reflected light of the candles in the room, an undulating promise of searing pain.

Kneeling directly in front of Suguru, your armed hand reached around him, the knife a menacing punctuation madness. Your gaze bore into his eyes with a ferocious intensity, a frenzied stare.

His face contorted. Wide eyes were saucers of panic, pupils dilated to the brink as if attempting to swallow the horror of it all. Sweat adorned his furrowed forehead, shining like dew. His complexion drained of colour, leaving behind a pallor that starkly contrasted with the usual warmth of his skin. The lines of his face, once familiar and composed, now distorted into a twisted mask. 

His mouth hung agape, a silent scream frozen on his lips. Tremors shook his body, his jaw clenched, muscles poised to flee—though you both knew he couldn’t. Every nerve was on edge, a single touch could shatter the fragile equilibrium that barely held him together.

As you held the knife, its cold blade a chilling presence, you gently dragged the back of it along his left forearm, tracing a path of distress up to his elbow. The metallic edge left a faint trail against his skin.

"I can't let anyone else have you, Suguru," you murmured.

It sent a chill down Suguru's spine, the sensation racing through his veins, setting his pulse ablaze. The soft touch, though hauntingly gentle, was enough to provoke his Adam’s apple to bob nervously. A cold sweat broke out down his back, beads of anxiety clinging to his skin, as your blade traced a perilous path, a few inches away from the delicate network of his veins.

"Don't..." he managed to whisper, his voice trembling, a plea that hung in the air like a fragile thread. Tears brimmed at the edges, and an involuntary stillness overcame his legs.

His mind raced, an anxious torrent of thoughts attempting to strategise, to find a way to escape the impending threat. The ropes, however, proved an insurmountable obstacle, binding him in cruel proximity.

“I love you.”

"Please..." he begged softly, his voice a desperate entreaty. His eyes remained fixed on the glinting blade.

The flat of the blade dragged along Suguru's bicep, a chilling sensation that sent shivers through his entire being. As you continued, the cool metal skimmed his collarbones, leaving a trail of cold dread in its wake. 

"Ah, ah, hah..." he bit down on his lip at the acute discomfort of the blade. 

Goosebumps erupted across his flesh. With each touch, his body reacted as if the very air around him had turned icy. His trembling and shivering became more pronounced under the merciless blade. Suguru's instincts begged him to scream, to resist, but his body, held captive by the ropes and paralysed by fear, fought against the primal urge. His eyes met yours with an expression of utter helplessness. He felt a desperate yearning for release, a desire to break free from the nightmarish reality that enveloped him.

"You're mine, okay? Maybe I'll make you match with me right... here," you murmured—a haunting promise.

The blade traced a perilous path, inching towards the area where his heart rested beneath his left pec. His heaving chest forced itself to still, a desperate attempt to avoid any accidental harm as the blade hovered over the epicentre of his being—his heart.

A helpless horror painted his features as he stared at your hand, left frozen in shock, a captive audience to the cruel drama. His body remained unnaturally still. He couldn't move. He couldn't say a word. He couldn't do a damn thing. Any motion, even the slightest twitch, threatened to turn this nightmarish ordeal into a self-inflicted tragedy.

"Or maybe..."

As you moved the blade with deliberate intent, dragging it inches from his skin and his pounding heart, Suguru's body betrayed him. The tip traced a sinister path along Suguru's abdomen, the cold steel scratching his skin but not breaking it. Shiny with sweat, his abdominal muscles twitched involuntarily in response to the metal.

A gasp of distress escaped his lips as the blade brushed against his skin, tickling every nerve ending and sending a sharp pang shooting up to his stomach. The heat emanating from the spot where the blade had touched created an acute awareness of the vulnerability of his soft, pale skin. A thin red line marked the path of the shallow scratch, not even enough to bleed. If he bled, would you be satisfied?

Down his hip bone you pressed the entirety of the flat, cold steel against the plushness of his thigh.

"Maybe here."

His body, already fraught with tension, tensed further at the sensation. The flat against his thigh felt like an icy brand. Suguru's hands shook uncontrollably, his entire being trembling in response to the cruel caress. Eyes, fearful and pleading, darted between your face and the blade. He waited for the anticipated moment of pain that never came.

"You... Please..." he whispered, on the precipice of breaking.

You, however, continued to stroke the inside of his thigh with the blade, a cruel tease. "It would look good carved right here.”

A sharp gasp escaped him as he felt the tingle of the blade running across the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. The sensation, a mix of fear and an unexpected wave of arousal, caught him off guard. He pressed his lips together, attempting to stifle any involuntary sounds that might betray the tumult within; but a soft moan escaped Suguru.

"Please…” he begged again, a fragile thread holding on to the remnants of composure, of pride. 

You licked your lips, your gaze fixed on the spot where the blade of the knife pressed against his inner thigh, a visual of the precarious balance between torment and perverse desire.

"You want me to be yours... permanently, right? You want me to be your soulmate, your forever—right?" he began, his voice a delicate balance of persuasion and vulnerability. His mind raced with the urgency of finding a way out of this hell.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes, his gaze anxious as it fixated on the weapon pressed against his thigh.

"What if you can have me in a—in a different way? What if we can have something no other sorcere—no other couple can have?" he whispered, the desperation palpable in his voice. The air seemed charged with the weight of his plea as he attempted to navigate a fragile path between surrender and a desperate attempt at negotiation.

"And that is?" you inquired, a sudden brightness in your eyes catching Suguru off guard. He gave you a wobbly smile, his heart racing in his chest.

"I'll let you have me. In every way possible.” 

"Have you?" a shiver ran down his spine, his eyes on yours, searching for any sign of mercy or understanding. "I wanted to take my time with you, Suguru..." you sighed, your gaze dropping to the knife. 

"Please... I-I want you to have me," Suguru said, an unsettling desire that clouded his thoughts. "Please."

His body, restrained by ropes and paralyzed by fear, yearned to move, to escape the impending danger, but it remained frozen in place. A darker desire rendered him powerless.

"Please! I'll be good for you. I'll be good for you, I swear..." Suguru's desperate entreaty hung in the air.

You hummed contemplatively, your gaze appraising Suguru as he desperately sought a way out of the impending torment. "How?" 

A flicker of realisation brightened Suguru's eyes, a glimmer of hope amidst the encroaching darkness. "There's a way you can keep me without having to—that," he began, his voice shaking but now laced with a newfound confidence. "You can mark me as your own. You can mark me as yours and keep me by your side..." he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his plea echoing in the room.

“How?” 

He remained silent for a moment, pride warring with desperation. Suguru bit down on his lip, his mind a chaotic whirlwind of words he yearned to say but hesitated to voice. The weight of the unspoken hung in the air, an unrelenting pressure pushing him toward disclosure.

"Touch me.”

For a moment, Suguru was left breathless, his admission hanging in the air like a cloud of uncertainty. He had said anything to make you drop the knife, to replace the impending pain with a different kind of surrender.

"Isn't it too soon? You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for the moment to make you… I wanted it to be perfect.”

In response, Suguru laughed—a genuine sound that echoed in the room, a laughter he hadn't experienced in a long time. A laughter that betrayed the nervous undercurrent beneath the surface, a way to mask uncertainty. The thought of it being a nervous laughter didn't cross your mind, the genuine tone seemingly validating the moment.

That laughter quickly transformed into a smile, the genuine expression playing on his features. Your eyebrows raised inquisitively, observing the way he spoke convincingly about being ready for you.

"Not at all," he whispered, his voice carrying a confidence that contradicted the vulnerability in his eyes. A millionaire smile adorned his face, a façade—the world was, indeed, perfect in that moment.

The handle of the knife in your grip felt unyielding, your knuckles pale from the force with which you held it. Slowly, you leaned your face toward Suguru, your gaze fixated on his lips. A slight tremor ran through you.

Suguru's eyes widened as he observed your approach, the blade pressed against him momentarily slipping from his consciousness. You were so close now, the minimal space between you diminishing further. His eyes fluttered shut, lips parting as his breath caught in his throat.

"Kiss me," he whispered.

The kiss was hesitant and nervous on your end, the palpable tension between you vibrating with adrenaline and a barely suppressed need. As you went to pull away, Suguru deepened the kiss. A quiet moan escaped you into his mouth, and in that moment, the knife slipped from your grip, clattering with relief to the floor. Pleasure swept through him, and any fear he had of the blade was momentarily forgotten. Seizing the opportunity, he took advantage of your distraction, deepening the kiss again with an eager moan.

Your lips met his, tongues finding their place together as the two of you kissed with abandon. Pleasure surged through Suguru as your arms went around his neck, holding him close in a passionate embrace. You cradled his cheeks in your hands instead, even as he stayed tied up. You pushed your tongue greedily into his mouth, and one of your hands laced into his hair, tugging it by the roots gently. 

When your tongue entered his mouth, his eyes rolled to the back of his head in pleasure. His body tensed and flexed against the ropes, instinctively rebelling to try and reach you. He moaned softly into your mouth, his hands shaking against the ropes that keep him restrained.

The kiss left both of you panting and trembling, desire and anticipation thick in the air. You broke the kiss, pressing your forehead against Suguru's, locking eyes with him. His gaze, hungry with longing, met yours.

"You..." you started, and Suguru swallowed thickly.

"You look so... Beautiful..." he murmured, his voice breathless and sincere, even if the sincerity was part of the act.

You chuckled airily. Open-mouthed kisses peppered his skin, and he responded with a breathy groan. Starting near his chin and making your way to the base where his ear met his neck, you bit down lightly, running your tongue over the sensitive skin. Suguru gasped, his head angled by the tug of his hair, your other hand gripping the ropes on his chest.

Straining against the ropes, his back arched like a taut bowstring, the bindings leaving indents that promised to bloom into bruises with the back-and-forth torment. With his hair pulled at a different angle, his gaze turned upward to meet yours, the height difference accentuated in this vulnerable state. Hungry eyes watched your every move, his mouth half-open, each inhale catching in his throat.

Your kisses and marks trailed along his neck, the tugs on his hair and the scratches of your nails against his scalp sending shivers down his spine. The hand on his chest ventured down his abdomen, tracing circles against one of his Adonis lines, a teasing touch that further heightened his arousal.

The familiar ache between his thighs pulsed with intensity, a relentless reminder of the desire that simmered. A yearning plea lingered in the air as he pressed himself closer to you, the heat of his breath mingling with the anticipation of your every exhale. He took a deep breath, his racing thoughts hidden behind closed eyes. A silent prayer echoed in the quiet recesses of his mind, a fervent hope that you would attend to the ever-hardening cock that strained to feel you.  

Shivers ran through his body as your nails scratched against his skin, a hint of pain mingling with the pleasure to keep him hooked. The ropes dug deeper into his skin, leaving red, painful marks across his back, chest, and shoulder blades. He squirmed, his skin begging for more.

"Ah…!" Suguru let out a half-moan, half-gasp. "T-That... That feels good..."

"You're mine," you mumbled against Suguru's throat before lightly biting it. 

A whimper escaped him, his body writhing against the bindings that held him captive. His arms were securely tied, leaving him unable to touch himself or you, but the sensation of your teeth against his skin, against his neck, was enough to elicit a response.

"Fuck... I'm yours..." Suguru mumbled, his eyes closed. There was no room for any other response; he was yours, willingly or not.

"You're safe with me," you reassured, kissing along his collarbones. 

His eyes flickered open briefly, only to close again as he noticed the tight grip of your hand in his hair. The pain, a sharp contrast to the pleasure, mingled in a way that seemed to deepen his surrender. The hand massaging his thighs made him squirm, his back arching to intensify the sensation of the ropes against his skin.

"W-Woah, easy on the hair," he muttered out of breath, a plea laced with both discomfort and a desperate need for your touch. 

You pulled back, narrowing your eyes and arching a brow. "What was that?"

Suguru whimpered softly, the fear rushing back as your fingers remained entwined in his hair, the tightness starting to border on pain. Swallowing thickly, his eyes opened slowly, his heart pounding with the resurgence of apprehension.

"N-Nothing... Nothing at all," he stammered, nervously avoiding your gaze. "I like it when you pull my hair... I like it really—really hard," he added.

A smirk played on your lips as you tugged his hair, bringing his face closer. "Good boy. I know you can take it, because you're strong, aren't you?" you cooed.

"Y-Yes... I'm strong..." Suguru whispered, gritting his teeth, attempting to hide the pain behind those words. He tried to muster a confident smile. Swallowing thickly, he nodded, lying. "I can take it," he whispered, his expression a mosaic of hurt, arousal, fear. "Yeah... I'm a good boy..." he continued, the words laced with a plea for reassurance. "I can take it... I-I can..."

You smiled approvingly and leaned in, kissing Suguru so softly that a moan escaped him, his eyes closing in bliss. The kisses were sweet and tender, carrying an addictive quality that seemed to erase the pain in his hair, replacing it with pure, unbridled pleasure.

In contrast to the softness of your kisses, your hand in his hair maintained its tight grip, a silent assertion of control. The other hand on his thigh sank its nails into the plush flesh, a sensation that brought a sharp intake of breath. The pain, though evident, seemed to intertwine seamlessly with the pleasure of your kisses. Suguru hesitated to voice any discomfort, reluctant to ask you to stop when the pleasure seemed to outweigh the pain.

Suguru was acutely aware of the pre-cum, a testament to the relentless ache that pulsed through his throbbing dick. The warm, wet stickiness coated him, and his fingers twitched to wrap around it just for some relief. His mind painted vivid fantasies where it wasn't his own skin but yours, where the pre-cum painted your skin with the rawness of his desire. The yearning for a deeper physicality clawed at him—your skin flushed against his.

A need that pulsed through him, a need that he found challenging to express: he needed you—needed you desperately, damn it.

A whimper escaped him as your touch lingered on his thigh, the pressure from your fingernails digging deeper. "Oh, God..." he whispered softly, his lips trembling slightly but still yearning for more of your touch. 

You pulled back, allowing your hand to fall from Suguru's hair, and instead, you tucked some of his long, silky black strands behind his ears, your hand lingering around the rope on his shoulder. Both of you were breathing heavily, and as you sat back a little, you admired the sight before you.

"You're gorgeous like this, darling,” you remarked, your voice laced with a mix of satisfaction and admiration.

A shiver rolled down Suguru's spine when you pulled away, his eyes slowly opening. He stared back at you with admiration, his gaze flickering down to your hand around the rope as you tucked your hair behind his ears. His breathing stilled, chest slowly rising and falling as he absorbed the sight of you appreciating him. The moment, however, took a sharp turn when your hand pulled away, and his expression shifted from admiration to fear as you drew close to the rope.

"P-Please!"

"Please?" you teased, a smile playing on your lips. Your nails dug into his thigh again, and you pulled, leaving deep, raw scratches.

He yelped and whimpered at the sharp sting, his whole body shivering at the feeling of your fingernails digging into his thigh and pulling. He whined and squirmed in his constraints, the ropes biting into his wrists, torso, and legs. Despite the discomfort, he had no choice but to endure.

"Please, I'll do anything!" he begged, his eyes wide and breath catching in his throat.

You raised your eyebrows, a playful smile on your lips. "Oh, I'm sure you will. Because you love me, don't you?" 

Your hand on his thigh gently stroked the fresh scratches, a soothing touch that blurred the lines between pain and pleasure. Suguru's breath hitched, and his mind, clouded by desire, struggled to discern whether he wanted to run away.

"Yeah..." he whispered, closing his eyes once more. "I do... I do." 

A part of him still yearned to break free, but the fear and anxiety of losing your touch overrode that desire. It was less about escaping and more about staying by your side, ensnared.

You lifted your hand off his thigh, wetting your lips before spitting into your palm. The sudden shock of your spit-slicked hand wrapping around his needy dick made Suguru's body stiffen. Despite the initial shock, the sensation felt undeniably good, and the movement of your fingers made him squirm in both fear and pleasure. His eyes darted between your face and your hand, his breath catching in his throat. Each stroke and pull like a drug, addictive and consuming. Biting his lips furiously, Suguru's face flushed crimson. His face twitched with anxiety, yet his entire body trembled with pleasure.

As the pace of your hand quickened, he keened and whimpered, unable to articulate a coherent response. "Is that how you like it, darling?" 

Suguru attempted to form words, but all that escaped were high-pitched whines. His teeth seemed practically glued together as another whimper slipped from his throat, his bound hands pulling on the ropes in a desperate attempt to get closer to you.

"Does that feel good? Yeah?" you teased, chuckling and watching his expressions in awe. “Aw, cute… I can feel it twitching.”

"It's so... M’so… Hah, fuck…"

His words failed him. He couldn't even form a sentence. The touch of your hand between his thigh was pure pleasure, and he was unable to keep himself composed. His hands were still pulling on the ropes against his arms, wanting more—so much more. His hips, driven by his muscles flexing and tensing in fervent and rhythmic thirst, pressed against you insistently. Suguru's breath, once controlled, now grew increasingly irregular, as he whined between gasps.

"Please... S-so good," he groaned in frustration. "Oh, please, fuck, I need to… Need to–"

“Yeah? What is it, darling?”

He nodded frantically, his ability to articulate lost in the whirlwind of moans and whines escaping his lips. The sensations between his thighs, guided expertly by your hand, were undeniably addictive. His hips rocked in response, a desperate rhythm that mirrored the instinctive urgency of his body, pushing into your touch with fervent desire.

As your lips met his, Suguru melted into the kiss, every nerve in his body ablaze by the sensation. The rhythmic movements of his hips intensified, a testament to the depth of his longing. Each kiss drew out desperate whimpers, his body writhing in pleasure. Yet, beneath the surface, a palpable tension hinted at the intense need he harboured.

He could envision it—the way he would fill every inch of you, the intoxicating stretch that would make your body slick with sweat. The sounds—the hitch in your breath, the loud moans escaping your lips as pleasure surged through both of you. Your legs would wrap around his waist, craving him closer, more deeply. He would moan, his cock twitching inside you, a testament to the exquisite torture of the denial. Yet even in fantasy, you would smile at him wickedly, using him all for yourself.

You felt the rhythm of his movements, the desperation evident in how roughly he fucked your hand, and you knew the depth of his arousal. Breaking the kiss, you murmured, "You close?" into his mouth.

A wave of pleasure swept through Suguru's body as your whispered words hung in the air. His attempts to speak were stifled by the overwhelming sensations, reduced to a series of groans and gasps. His eyes remained tightly shut, lips trembling, and his chest heaved with each shallow breath.

His hips, driven by instinctive urgency, pushed into the air, need pulsing through him. His cock stood flushed, dripping, and achingly hard, the anticipation etched into every twitch.

Your actions, guided by a blend of desire and control, only deepened his yearning. The precum drooled from his slit, messy and exactly how you liked it. Your saliva-slicked hand teased and pumped him, each movement accompanied by an embarrassingly loud wet sound that resonated with his whimpers.

Just before he could cum, you withdrew your hand, and his body quivered in response, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. The abrupt absence of your touch left him gasping for breath, words caught in the throes of long-gone ecstasy. His eyes fluttered open as you pulled away, panic contorting his face. 

"No, no, please…! Please don't..." he whispered, his plea hanging in the air as he longed for the return of the sensation that had brought him so close to release.

As you pressed your lips against his, a surge of warmth radiated through the touch, your fingers coiled around the taut rope of his shoulder, the lit fuses of lust. The conflict made him beautiful—a part of him, a mere whisper amid the cacophony, yearned to resist, to reclaim control. Yet, that struggle was seared away by the overwhelming touch, by the overwhelming you, making resistance a distant and feeble notion. The texture of the rough fibres kept him tethered to the intensity of the kiss, a dance of lips and tongues that became him.

Your teeth sank into his bottom lip; his response was visceral—a loud, involuntary moan—the sound of surrender. His lower lip quivered beneath the sharp pressure, a tangible sign of the white-hot desire surging through his veins. His surrender, the white flag, was taken into your heated hands and scorched to black, to lust. With closed eyes, his world narrowed to the victor, to you.

Breaking the kiss, a glistening strand of saliva lingered, connecting your parted mouths. With a mischievous smile, your hand rose, and your thumb found its place in his parted lips. The wet heat enveloped your digit, his tongue swirling sensuously around it. His eyes, heavy-lidded with arousal, met yours. A groan hung in the air, caught in the rawness of his throat as he eagerly sucked on your offered digit, his tongue curling around it.

"I wanna… Mmmf…! I wanna..." His voice, laced with restrained desire, faltered as he bit down on your thumb, the words teetering on the edge of a plea. "More, more..."

You leaned in, your face tantalisingly close to his, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "More, huh?"

Withdrawing your thumb from his heated mouth, you directed your attention lower, teasingly inching it between his legs once again. The soft pad of your thumb, a gentle torment, caressed the sensitive contours of his length, drawing circles on the leaking head, smearing pre from the slit along the prominent vein of his shaft. He let out a strangled moan, his hips involuntarily frotting into your hand as he gasped for air, unable to respond beyond the primal sounds escaping him. His body shook and his hips bucked desperately.

The hand wrapped around the ropes tugged him nearer, and you rested your forehead against his, the candlelight flickering in the inky black depths of his eyes like a torch in the night.

"You're beautiful," you whispered, “You’re mine.” 

Blushing under the weight of your words, his eyes widened. Your breath, a sweet and intoxicating scent, mingled with his. He shuddered, a soft whimper escaping him. Desperate to contain the rising chorus of pleasure, he bit down on his lower lip, the delicate dance of pleasure and restraint evident in the way his hips instinctively rocked. His body trembled under the tender torment of your touch.

"Please," he begged, soft and needy.

"Tell me that I'm the only one for you, the only one to make you feel this way," you murmured, a sly smile playing on your lips.

His brow furrowed with the exertion of pleasure. Your words, a catalyst of praise and affection, wielded a power that rendered resistance incapable. His attempt to deny, to resist your influence, was a futile battle:

"You're... You're the only one," he whispered, surrendering to the truth. 

His eyes fluttered shut, teeth gritted, and his hips moved with an urgency that betrayed the depth of his craving. Each thrust forward sought the contact that momentarily eluded him, and a plaintive whine escaped when your touch lingered just out of reach.

“Tell me you want me."

"I... Oh, God, I want you. I want you so much right now. Need you so fucking badly right now."

His admission trembled through the charged air, a declaration of desire that hung heavy between you. His body quivered, and he clamped down on his lips, a valiant effort to withhold further vulnerability. Yet, the pull of your tease and touch unfurled the neediest corners of his soul, a rekindled lust that had nearly withered in the grip of isolation.

"Please…! Please touch me... Please, please touch me again..." 

Your question hung in the air, a subtle challenge:

"You feel this?" 

The room echoed with a ravenous moan as your hand reached down, cupping Suguru's balls. If the intensity wasn't overwhelming enough, you chose that precise moment to massage his ballsack between your fingers—swollen and heavy with cum, aching to be released. The sudden, deliberate contact jolted him into a realm of heightened sensations, his eyes snapping open to reveal the surrender etched across his face under the spell of your grip.

No words found refuge on his tongue, eclipsed by a primal symphony of moans and the hungry, needy whispers that escaped his parted lips in response to your touch.

"Please..." A quiet whimper, a plea, an admission of craving.

"This is mine now, alright?" you declared, asserting yourself with a subtle squeeze.

Wide-eyed, breath caught in his throat, he found himself ensnared in a web of possession. Your grip, both firm and tight, elicited a soft whimper, his hips instinctively pushing into the touch, yearning for more. The declaration wrapped around him,the reply spilt from him, a desperate cascade of surrender and longing—a willing captive to the depths of your lust:

"Y-Yeah... Y-Yours, fuck…! Oh, God, yours. Your touch is mine, yours... Just yours... Only yours, I want you, need you..." 

Your words, a melodic coo, dripped with a seductive assurance. "So obedient, you're learning.”

As your touch found a firm rhythm, a seismic shift surged through him. His body, a canvas for the symphony of pleasure, responded with unrestrained fervour. Fingers curled tightly around the ropes, a desperate attempt to anchor himself amidst the rising tide of need. A guttural moan escaped him, his tongue lolling out involuntarily as breath hitched in his throat.

Rocking forward, every movement strained against the constricting bonds, ropes carving into his skin, a painful reminder of desire, control, captivity. Pleasure, a white-hot current, coiled in the pit of his stomach, setting his nerves ablaze with an intensity that bordered on exquisite agony. But your words, a cascade of praise and affection, were the one craving of his you satiated. He needed you now. He needed you.

You.

A cry, raw and hoarse, reverberated through the room. Tears, involuntary witnesses to the overwhelming ecstasy, streamed from his eyes. His legs tensed, a quiver coursing through them, and his whimpers escalated into squeals. But as you withdrew your touch, a pang of longing seized him, a hurt he hadn't anticipated. Fervent pleas spilt from him, his body squirming in your grip. 

"Please…! Oh, fuck… No, no, please…! Please touch me again..." His words, infused with desperation, hung in the air, a plea for the return of the exquisite torment you provided.

"You wanna feel more? Do it yourself," you drawled, a burst of mocking laughter accompanying your words.

Suguru's sob, a raw expression of frustration, mirrored the internal turmoil. Tears blurred his vision, but the silhouette of your smug grin etched itself in his mind. A blend of desire and frustration mingled in his plea, "Please-please-please-please... Please touch me..." The imploring gaze sought your hands for solace.

"Please, darling. For me,” you taunted.

Eyes pleaded, and his body trembled once more as he reluctantly began to move, the tight grip of the ropes emphasising the solitary nature of the act. Sweet, pearlescent tears gathered on his lashes, welling up in those gorgeous eyes, and rolled down his flushed cheeks. They shimmered, streaking his face, as baby hairs stuck to his sweaty forehead. Brows knitted together, frustration etched across his features—what a sight he was for you.

Each thrust into the air was met with a loud whine, but despite the physical effort, it could never replicate you. You were incomparable. Another cascade of tears leaked from his eyes, tracing damp trails down his cheeks. A hot ache coursed through him—that familiar aching bliss.

"It doesn't, ah, feel like you... Like you..." The room hung heavy with the echoes of Suguru's whines.

"Oh, my darling. C'mon, keep going. You're so close now, aren't you?"

His eyes opened, a flush of embarrassment painting his face as he met your gaze. Head shaking in protest, he struggled with the solitary act, his voice trembling, and breaths shallow. The effort, while valiant, felt insufficient, a stark reminder of the absence of your touch.

"I'm... I'm fucking trying…!" he whispered. More whimpers escaped him, the absence of your touch haunting the moment of indulgence.

A groan emerged, lips parting in surrender to pleasure. Your encouragement became his guiding force, pushing him closer. Moans echoed, his eyes rolled back, and his back arched in response to the steady grip of the ropes on his shoulders. Pleasure consumed him, his body wracked with its intoxicating embrace, yet the struggle to contain the sounds persisted.

You seized his jaw, holding his mouth open, a witness to his contorted face—shame, pleasure, fear—those uninvited guests. His body writhed, torn between the desire to escape the situation and the undeniable arousal that tethered him to your command. Feeble protests echoed in the room, his resolve crumbling beneath the weight of your influence..

As his hips accelerated in their erratic movement, a violent shudder seized his entire body. Streams of thanks spilt from his bitten lips, a testament to the overwhelming release that surged through him. Suguru's orgasm, a crescendo of heat and pleasure, shook him violently, the length of his cock now coated in warm, sticky evidence of his climax, thrusting into the air with feverish need.

"There you go, my darling. Good boy, you've done so well," you said affectionately, creating a momentary reprieve, a gentle acknowledgement of his surrender.

The room held the lingering echoes of Suguru's release, his body still trembling as he kneeled there, caught in the aftermath of the fireworks that had set every nerve ablaze. A pyre to pleasure, his chest heaving with each laboured breath—a testament to intensity.

Blissful heat. 

As his eyes stayed closed, fingers wrapping around the ropes that bound him, he grappled with the profound impact of the experience. A spectrum of feelings—humiliation, frustration, repulsion—warred within him. Yet, an undeniable satisfaction lingered, a product of the attention you had lavished upon him.

“How many people will do anything for the one they love?”

The weariness clung to Suguru's teary eyes as he fought against the heaviness, attempting to blink away the exhaustion. The world blurred with each slow blink, his eyelids closing reluctantly, weighed down by the fatigue that permeated his entire being. Your hands released the ropes, the final tethers of his consciousness, and he teetered.

"Honestly, Suguru, you’re lucky to have me," you chirped.

The metallic scrape of the knife being lifted off the floor, a sound that would have sparked alertness in any other circumstance, barely registered in his fading awareness.

"If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have been so lenient."

Eyelashes, once vibrant, seemed burdened by the weight of exhaustion. Each blink, a futile attempt to stave off sleep, betrayed the struggle.

"Then again, you’re my one and only, and I’ll do anything for you, ‘cause I love you. Anything."

Lines deepened on his forehead as the battle against fatigue intensified. Finally, his eyes fluttered open, meeting your smiling face.

"Even when you don't know what's best for yourself. Don't scream, okay?" you murmured gently.

He felt the cold press of the knife.

a/n: well. there we are, then. lol. this was a really fun thing to write icl... i should do more yandere stuff in the future :3

this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.

[chaoticbardlady99]

Maryë (Astarion x GN! AFAB Reader) MDNI 18 +

Synopsis: Astarion left to explore the world and himself following the death of the Netherbrain. You remain in Baldur’s Gate with your brother, Gale, resigning yourself to your fate as Astarion’s friend until you die. Until one day, you and Astarion begin to write letters back and forth. Except there is one letter in particular that you suspect isn’t from Astarion…

CW: minimal mentions of violence, smut, Oral (Female Receiving), PIV, Tav’s also just an oblivious idiot who apparently doesn’t think very hard about words (it’s me, I’m Tav the idiot and this is like my Fiancé and I’s friendship prior to ya know, dating lmfao)

Author note- I might also write this in AMAB! Format, but I need to do some… research first for accuracy. This is lightly edited and just some silly little thought I had. I wanted to write something not so detailed for once while I work on my drafts for Lethal Woman and She’s Not Acid Nor Alkaline. Also def stole a line from Tolkien and added to it at the end (this is me crediting).

You’ll either love this or hate this idk.

The title literally translates to Home in Elvish.

Photo belongs to idk who so please reach out if it’s yours!

As always- likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, I am just terrible at responding.

Tav,

As much as I enjoy our current form of communication- I was wondering if I could come to see you in person.

I have so much I need to say to you and I want to be able to do it in person- the proper way.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Yours,

Astarion

You sit and stare at the letter like you have been doing for the last week since you received it. Unlike your half-brother, Gale, you are not one for words. It was hard to respond to Astarion’s letters initially until Gale “doctored” your responses- often putting whatever silly accomplishment you have achieved lately or stories Gale found interesting from your recent solo adventures.

“Are you going to write the letter or are you hoping it’s going to write itself?” Gale teases.

You scowl at him and shake your head.

“I don’t know what to write back.”

“I could come up with a couple things!” Gale clears his throat, “‘ Oh Astarion- I’ve missed you terribly this whole time! I regret telling you that we should be friends until you figure things out! Despite my VERY WISE BROTHER’S ADVICE TO NOT DO THAT! I wait like a lovesick puppy at the mailbox every week hoping a letter may arrive!’”

You roll your eyes at him and throw one of his many decorative couch pillows at his head. He certainly has your mother’s flair for the dramatic. However, you can’t necessarily say he’s wrong- you have been nothing less than a smitten school girl waiting for letters non-stop.

Astarion had gone back to the Underdark after the last battle with the Netherbrain. He told you that he wanted to go and explore who he is- the world too.

You had been as enthusiastic as you could about the decision considering you had come up to him at the party with a letter in your hands asking if he would like to continue traveling with you after this- you had been too scared to say it outloud. A part of you hoped it may allow your romance to blossom without the impending threat of death at every corner. Well, if he still harbored any feelings for you at all.

You had merely smiled and told him how excited you are for him. It answered the silent question that had been there- was there still room in Astarion’s heart for you after you said you should just be friends and try again later?

The answer was ‘no’, despite Gale’s perplexed face and lecture when he found out you gave the spawn a send off with a ‘long’ hug (he made you describe it in detail). You refuse to give yourself any hope- you will remain a dutiful friend since you resigned yourself to this fate.

Then you received a Sending spell with him requesting your address and the letters began. You squealed like a schoolgirl when the first one came in and ripped it open enthusiastically. You didn’t realize Gale was home, otherwise you wouldn’t have read it out in the open- Tara snitched on you!

You had only truly met Gale around a couple months prior to your mutual abduction. Your mother had asked you to assist a brother you never knew about in finding magical artifacts- you quickly learned it was because the man was becoming a damn recluse.

You had worried he’d slam the door in your face or turn you into a sheep for all of eternity- the minute you told him your name was Tav Dekarios, he pulled you in for a hug and told you he had been awaiting your arrival. Gale was thrilled to know that, like him, you were also a prodigy in your craft.

You are a virtuoso master with any instrument you touch and you cast spells that are almost far too good to be true. You became Oghma’s Chosen in your teen years after spending many years practicing under his mentorship (which is why you and Gale had a very weird, serious talk one night about how Mystra is kind of a fucking pedophile) and that allowed you to do incredible things.

Your notes could create shimmery images and tell stories- Arabella and the other tiefling children (even the very tough Mol) enjoy coming over and watching war tales be told with nothing but a drum and a rain stick. Sometimes you let them tell tales and you come up with a tune to match it- eventually finding a rhythm to put your mind into and create the picture.

It was one of the many things Astarion mentioned in his note- he stated that none of the other Bards even begin to hold a candle to your talent. You blushed deeply when you read the line.

He told you about everything he had seen, everyone he had met, what he’s found out about himself, and shockingly enough- how much he misses you. It had taken you by total surprise, but you responded saying you missed him too.

Pet names began to flow easily into inked lines and it felt like you had a tiny part of him back in your life- your friendship is still as strong as it was before he left.

The letters have quickly become the best part of your week and occasionally you’ll read them with Arabella. She ooos and awwws, then attempts to bully you into tell Astarion your feelings. You cast a mini rain shower over her head with a few poetic words for the suggestion. You don’t want to ruin what you have and there is always the possibility that he found someone else.

However, you weren’t unsure of this particular note because you didn’t want to see Astarion- you would love that. The issue is that it doesn’t look like his handwriting, it isn’t the paper he uses (he’s ridiculously particular), and it doesn’t flow. Gale thinks you are over analyzing it, but you are pretty sure that this isn’t Astarion’s writing. He also addresses you as “Darling” not Tav and signs the letter of with “‘Órenya ná órelya” (my heart is your heart) not “Yours”.

You’ve waited for another note to come in since, but nothing has. You are beginning to wonder if Gale is right and you really are just being paranoid.

“I already told you, Gale,” you say with annoyance, “something isn’t right about this note. I don’t think this is from him which is worrisome because that means I haven’t heard from him in two weeks WHICH could MEAN-“

“For the love of Gods- TAV,” Gale yells, effectively shutting you up, “my young, oblivious little sibling. Just say yes and let him come visit.”

*********************************************************

It had been two days since you sent the sending stone and there was no response. Not that it would have mattered anyway considering you are somewhere in the Underdark in a very beautifully lit cave. Neon, blue veins of magic run through the rock. The pathway is lit with glowing flowers and…. Benches?

It had all happened so fast. One moment you were walking home from the market and the next- Astarion had come up to you from an alleyway and said he needed help. He had told you that he would love to catch up, but there is an injured child around the corner and since he can only stay in the shadows, he needs you to help them. Before you knew it- someone hit you with a sleep spell and the last thing you remember seeing is stars as your head slammed into the pavement. Oh and a, “oooooffff my bad” before you blacked out.

You blink your eyes a few more times, trying to figure out what in the wretched hells is going on.

“Oh for the love of- I told you to talk to Oghma’s Chosen! Not kidnap her and give her a serious concussion!”

A hazy, short figure comes into your vision. Is that…. a Deep Gnome?

“You told us it was imperative for the wedding! We intercepted the real letter and wrote this one,” another Gnome says, “and it worked! They showed up and everything! We’ve been watching since you told us to talk to her two weeks ago! We were running out of time for talking and bargaining so we just-“

“Kidnapped them!” the man yells, “you kidnapped them!? You- you imbeciles! They are supposed to want to perform for the wedding- you had at least six more hours! AND I GAVE YOU TWO WEEKS!”

“But Walby-“

Walby.

You know Walby! He and Barcus have been dating for a while now and the two are over the moon smitten. You are very happy for Barcus- this man is everything Wulbern could never be.

“No! I have had enough of your silliness! Leave me at once!”

You hear the three Gnomes that supposedly ambushed you walk off in angry huffs. A flash of healing magic fills the air and your head is finally clear- your ears no longer ringing like a triangle.

“My apologies, Ms.Dekarios,” Walby, says, “I wanted them to give you an invitation to come to Barcus’ and I’s wedding this afternoon, but as you heard, they are not the brightest bunch.

“It’s a very last minute ceremony- my mother is ill and she wants to see her ‘baby’ get married before she goes. We wanted to wait another year to plan, but oh you know how it goes!”

Walby looks at you sheepishly as you blink a few more times and let his words sink in. You look at the man and try not to throw up from sitting upright. You must have been out for a while, but not in a “oh that was a wonderful beauty nap” kind of way. You are pretty sure you have a decent amount of blood caked to the side of your head and neck right now.

“Oh, well in that case,” you offer a good natured smile, “I’ll consider this the most unique wedding invitation I’ve ever received and one I may not even have the privilege of remembering.”

The man laughs heartily as you stand up and brush your clothing off. You’re glad you wore a nicer outfit today and decided to bring your violin along- Oghma must have wanted to make sure you were prepared.

“I also wanted to ask a favor,” he says meekly, “if I haven’t fallen out of your good graces before I even stepped foot in them- that is.”

You smile and just roll your eyes.

“Consider it water under the bridge. How can I be of service?”

“Well, you see- we had asked an acquaintance of ours to play music and uh. There’s no easy way to put this, but he was run over by a herd of Deep Rothé.”

“Hmm,” you say with a snort, “tough crowd- Deep Rothés.”

Ultimately, you agreed to perform for the ceremony and the little dinner party afterwards. Your music decorated the air with golds and silvers. Barcus was thrilled to have you there and thanked you immensely for allowing his mother-in-law to “witness true magic” before she leaves this plane.

By the time you were finally leaving- you hear two very familiar voices scream your name and come barreling towards you.

*****************************************

Astarion and Gale are practically sprinting as they try to track your location through the streets of Baldur’s Gate. They had just found a large spot of your blood sticking to the cobblestone and leading to the sewer. Astarion feels sick when he notices the path leads back into the Crimson Palace. Thankfully it was through the sewer and straight to the tunnel of the Underdark.

He had sent you a letter a few days ago and he had confessed his feelings. Instead of waiting for you to respond like a sane person, Astarion got the hell out of the inn he was staying at and began the four day trek to Baldur’s Gate. The nice part about traveling alone and not needing to breath is that Astarion could run from place to place if he was in a hurry or was just fed up with traveling already.

Astarion quickly learned that it was boring to be alone and it’s far more fun to share adventures with you. He also learned that he might be a semi-decent person on his own because, in spite of being without your physical presence, he continues to fucking help people. Astarion is really over this whole moral compass thing (it only extends so far though, he’s still a proud Bastard at heart).

When he arrived at your home about an hour and a half ago, Gale had informed him that you had gone out to the Market and was confused when Astarion said his letter shouldn’t have arrived yet. It took longer than usual to write for… reasons.

Gale showed him the note you received and the two of them pieced together that someone had definitely set up a trap- just not a very good one. Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose when Gale told him that you definitely figured out the letter wasn’t from him, but Gale encouraged you to respond anyway.

A part of him is incredibly worried that some of the remaining Bhaal cultists have taken you since they are the only people he could think of that would be able to mimic his form. His stomach still turns when he thinks about the time they realized Orin had taken you. This is giving him the same queasy feeling.

So imagine his and Gale’s surprise when you are walking away from some random spot seemingly unscathed. Except Astarion won’t believe that until he has inspected you for injuries himself.

You look positively shell-shocked to see him and even more surprised when he’s taking your face gently in his hands and begins to check for injuries.

“Are you alright, Darling?” He says in a far more panicked voice than he means to, “we found blood- I thought the worst and your idiot brother! Of course that letter wasn’t from me! I have class, my Dear! I would never use that paper and WHY IN THE HELLS WOULD YOU FOLLOW ME OF ALL PEOPLE!?”

He knows his ‘rage’ doesn’t sound like rage- it sounds like a man who thought his only love had been on the brink of death only moments ago. Astarion is trying to keep a serious face, but the adoration and love in your eyes when you look at him is making him want to dissolve. He’s thrilled to see that after a whole year of not being together that your feelings haven’t waivered. Neither have his, obviously, but that’s why he’s here.

“I will say, Tav,” Gale says with exasperation, “you even gave Tara a fright- you should be expecting a very long lecture when we get home.”

“Oh I’m sure I will,” you say with a beaming smile, your eyes never leaving Astarion’s, “but I do have quite the story if you would like to hear it?”

Astarion’s grin stretches across his entire face.

“I think a good story, better company, and some wine would make for a fine evening, my Dear.”

“Gross!” Gale says, “but I’ll tag along for some wine.”

Oh dammit.

****************************

If Astarion wasn’t so busy feasting upon you- then he probably would have already hunted down those stupid Gnomes that gave him a fright and found a windmill to fling them from. Gale had left only 15 minutes ago, but Astarion had made quick work in getting you up to his room and having his way with you.

The minute Gale left, the conversation became flirty and teasing- all the want that has been pooling in his body is finally getting the release it needs. You, like always, are a sight to behold.

Your back arches when his tongue drags along your clit and Astarion pushes your hips down into the mattress as your arousal paints his lips. Your moans and desperate cries of pleasure are so delicious and his cock is painfully hard, straining against his leather pants.. He is fighting between taking his time and being selfish- chasing his own pleasure inside of you.

The moment you clench around his fingers is the same moment he unlaces his own pants and begins to remove them. You keen and whine underneath him- Astarion’s name sounds the best coming from you in this state.

Astarion should be a gentleman, hypothetically, and maybe give you a half a second to be a little less dazed from your orgasm. Except Astarion isn’t a gentleman and he isn’t patient- at all.

Astarion lifts your hips up to his until the head of his cock is aligned with your entrance and he thrusts himself inside of you. You immediately wrap your legs around his hips with a yelp of pleasure and your eyes flutter wildly as you take his whole length. Astarion smiles down at you as he slowly rocks in and out of you.

Your fingers find their way to his hair and you pull Astarion’s face down to yours- stunning him with a mind numbing kiss. He snaps his hips at the sensation and the moan you let out causes whatever resolve he had to break. Astarion releases the hold you have on his lips and kisses along your jaw up to your ear.

“Did you like that, my Love?”

You hum in approval and try to pull his mouth back to yours. He interrupts you by thrusting into you two more times with more power than the first one.

“Asta-,,” you attempt to say his name between thrusts, “Astarion please.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Pet,” he teases, “I don’t even know if I know what you like anymore- maybe you don’t even like thi-“

Your legs tighten around his hips as he goes to pull completely out of you. Astarion quirks his eyebrow at you with a smirk as you look at him with desperation.

“I more than liked it- I loved it,” you whisper with your cheeks burning from your shyness.

Oh and how Astarion loves your shyness. His hands fist the sheets as he starts his agonizingly slow rhythm inside of you again- whimpers falling from deep within your chest.

“See, Darling,” Astarion says as his face falls into the crook of your neck, “that wasn’t so difficult, now was it?”

He doesn’t even give you a chance to respond before Astarion’s hips begin to pick up speed and his mouth covers yours. As much as he loves to hear you moan- he doesn’t care to share that experience with any of the patrons that had been obviously checking you out while you were catching up.

Astarion groans against your lips as he continues to fuck you relentlessly- his fangs nip at your lower lip and lap at the tiny droplets of blood that seep from the punctures.

You are a mess underneath him and you feel incredible in every way possible. Astarion never wanted this to stop in the first place- back when he had told you his feelings and you said it would be best to be friends for the time being.

Perhaps that’s what causes him to slow down and kiss you deeply- making up for the lack of speed with more force. One of his hands trails along your chest and begins to tease your sensitive nipples- your walls clench around him hard when he begins to pinch and roll the right one and your orgasm coats him as he moves to play with the left.

You kiss him sloppily and he’s lazily thrusting into you- his own Little Death following yours within seconds. Astarion collapses on top of you as he begins to soften inside of you. The smell of you and him mixed together is intoxicating and your heartbeat is hammering from the pleasure- your eyes glassy and tired with bliss. He laughs breathily before placing a kiss on your swollen lips.

Astarion lifts you up ever so slightly so that he can pull the blanket down and over you, then he adjusts himself and you so that you are curled up with your ear pressed against his chest. He strokes your hair absentmindedly and you lightly draw shapes on his chest.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” you say sleepily, “I’ve missed you so much.”

I’ve missed you too, Darling,” Astarion says while pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I’m happy to be home.”

“Oh I’m sure Baldur’s Gate is-“

“You are my home,” Astarion interrupts you, “I’ve come to realize that wherever you are is where I want to be.”

You look up at him with tears in your eyes and happiness in your heart.

“But what about exploring your new life and all of that jazz?”

“Darling, I wouldn’t have a life if it weren’t for you,” Astarion states, “you helped me kill Cazador and break the cycle of ongoing abuse. You gave me life so I could live it and I want to live it with you. I’m tired of pretending I’m okay with just being friends and holding back my feelings. I want to share my life with you.

“I know this may all seem very fast, but” Astarion grabs his pants off the ground and he feels his stomach turn as he pulls the box out of his pocket, “I know I love you- that’s probably the only thing I’ve ever been sure of in my entire 239 years of existence. I- I wanted to know if you would… marry me?”

Your lips are on his within seconds and the two of you become entangled in soft kisses until you have to pull back for air. You lean your forehead against his and meet his gaze.

“I love you so much, Astarion. Yes- yes I will marry you,” you say tearfully, “I want to share my life with you too.”

[blissfulip]

—Legion

On AO3

Priest!Viktor x F!demon!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Priest Kink, Blasphemy, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Flagellation, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Demon/Human Relationships, demon reader, AU - Canon Divergence, Post medieval era, Dubious Science, Church Sex, Roman Catholicism, Catholic Guilt, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, Shameless Smut, Masturbation

Cw: blood, self flagellation, masturbation

Words: 1.7k

[A/N: extremely blasphemous, but again, you saw the tags. Please read at your own risk! (also, let me know if you want to be tagged or removed in future fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @chemical-killjoy @jinxed-jk @bobobomao @queen-of-elves @thedustybunny @syren201 @thayfass @thehistoriangirl @hypocritic-trash-baby

Playlist made by my baby Soln <3 @ihopeinevergetsoberr

Next

I.

Extra ecclesiam nulla salus. 

 There is a certain comfort in fear. When you see what awaits you at the gaping, harrowing mouth of hell, knowledge of the place you must avoid, ultimately, is power. There was a time when Viktor pitied those who did not know—those who lived despondent lives, unaware and unafraid of damnation. Recently, he had found himself wishing he knew less. 

 A ravening beast with a thousand bloody teeth, inside its mouth a cauldron, and in it the souls of the accursed with sin, boiling over scorching flames as legions of fiendish demons dragged in multitudes more. This image plagued Viktor’s mind without rest, be it vividly in his dreams, in the colossal fresco at the entrance of his local cathedral, or in the comical props onstage at the theater plays. 

 The parish clergy that had taken him in as a kid had made the mistake of noticing his outstanding intelligence and awarding him time to dedicate to studying philosophy, a privilege that many of the choir monks and lay brothers did not receive. In university, philosophy had turned into physics, and soon that turned into astronomy, which he had to keep a secret on account of the recent prohibitions put in place by Paul V’s Inquisition over the study of Copernican theories. 

 After he was ordained and returned to his home cathedral, this once silent yet innocent interest had turned into complete secrecy, and the fear of God that had once given him solace now tormented him. At times he considered giving up on his work; the mechanical objections of Copernican theory should not be of this much significance to him after all; there had to be something of value in what Thomas Aquinas had to say, and perhaps Agustine of Hippo had some good points. Nevertheless, it was the night sky that called to him, and even this far from it, he could not escape. 

 But outside the church there is no salvation , and Viktor knew that even if he was never to be condemned as a heretic in life, what awaited him in death was a flaming tomb at Epicure's side. Quod extra ecclesiam nulla salus. 

---------------------------------------------------

His parish was a pious one, but Viktor would refuse to receive lithe from the members of his church. The first time he tried this, the bishop was immediately alerted, and he was secluded to live in the small room inside the chapel as a ‘punishment’ for his impertinence. Viktor did not mind; the lands he had been previously allotted were too much to care for on his own, with cleaning being especially hard once his leg would start tiring out, and the presence of the personnel of lay brothers that would follow him around made his studies impossible; thus, the contained space of the church was comfortable to live in on his own.

 It had been a particularly cold morning. The week before, he had received word of the imminent visit of his diocesan bishop, and the impending possibility of his stay at any moment in the near future had tied his eyebrows into a permanent knot and his shoulders into a tense bundle of nerves since that morning. 

 To his dismay, the state of his works had made no decent progress, his journal being nothing more than a few numbers and three words on a painfully empty piece of parchment. He understood Latin; he had studied it at length in university, but when he took a break to read the Bible, the words on it floated around aimlessly, in a messy concoction of nothing. 

 “Per fidem enim ambulamus et non per speciem,” he repeated to himself in a whisper, and then closed the pages lethargically. 

 He read the cover of a white volume that had been lying on his desk for over a month now. He was sure he would have possibly agreed with what Foscarini had to say, so the feeling of dread he felt every time he laid eyes upon the title was mystifying to him. Though it made sense after some reflection, he was afraid. 

 When he read Copernicus, it felt distant, a world he was only a visitor in, but the Foscarini was a carmelite father, one of his own that was now nothing short of a persona non-grata in the eyes of the Roman Catholic Church. Viktor was afraid that what he had to say might make sense and that he might be so correct in his observations that this knowledge would drag him into the same status. 

 In retrospect, he should not have read it. 

 In fact, opening the cover was a big mistake on its own. Not even 3 pages in, the door of his room unceremoniously barged open, revealing the full figure of Father Isodore. Viktor and him never really got along; his time in the monastery as a kid was full of rule-breaking and inappropriate questions, and to Father Isidore’s dismay, insatiable curiosity remained Viktor’s fatal flaw well into his adulthood. 

 Not a single word was uttered as he carried his sunny disposition and rubicund complexion over to Viktor’s desk. There was no use in trying to hide what he was holding; Viktor carried the same guilty look on his face every time he did something he was not supposed to. Once a cute kid trying to hide some innocent misdeeds, his expression had grown into one of unadulterated shame and indignity in the wake of sin, and the bishop knew this all too well. The book was snatched off his hands aggressively.

“‘Epistle concerning the mobility of the earth’,” he read, “would be an interesting read if only as a piece of fiction, and perhaps in a different climate.”

“Your excellence, I eh—”

“Save it. Don’t worsen your sin by bearing false witness.”

Viktor looked down and sighed in resignation, a disappointed sadness creeping up in his throat.

“You are very much aware those texts have been forbidden, but since words seem to slide off you, I hope physical penance can remind you of your depravity,” Father Isidore said coldly as he handed Viktor the whip that usually served as no more than a piece of decoration adorning his wall. “Ten of them, and be intentional. One pater noster after each.”

“Yes, father.”

“It’s a shame; I have come to congratulate you on your work for the community. Repent. ” The emphasis on the last word punctuated his departure.

A cold feeling arose in Viktor’s stomach as he looked down at the whip, something akin to fear but also awfully comparable to excitement.

Three deep breaths are what he allowed himself; it would be better to get it over with as quickly as possible. He removed his vestments unhurriedly, only his bottoms remaining as he sluggishly kneeled by the bed, and the chilled air on his back was, in hindsight, not as bad as he thought at the moment. His hand trembled slightly when his grip on the whip tightened, and his jaw locked into a gritted grin as he sucked air in through his teeth.

The first flick of his arm was swift, like ripping away a bandage to make the pain go away as fast as your wrist could tug at it. It did not help; the feeling of the small metal beads digging into his skin was instantaneous, and it disappeared soon, but the burning that replaced it lingered.

“ Pater noster, qui es in cælis:sanctificetur nomen tuum; adveniat regnum tuum; fiat voluntas tua, sicut in cælo et in terra .”

A swarm of ants biting at the exposed skin on his back was a scorching fire.

“Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie,et dimitte nobis debita nostra, sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris; et ne nos inducas in tentationem; sed libera nos a malo.”

Then it subsided, and the slight chills on his arms were due to something else. He took his time with the second hit, languidly whipping both hands back this time to maintain the same level of strength. The aching this time was different; the burning of his skin was quenched by the few droplets of blood and sweat trickling down his spine. And there was something else—a burning feeling that was misplaced not on his back or wrists but in his lower stomach.

“Pater noster, qui es in cælis:sanctificetur nomen...” He started once again, both hands holding one another around the handle of the whip, closed in prayer as he shut his eyes tightly for concentration. This proved to be fruitless when an uncomfortable tightness in the fabric around his crotch distracted his attention away from the words he was reciting. He tried to continue with his prayer, but an ill-calculated movement tugged at the tender skin of his back, and the brief sting made the already confining feeling worsen, morphing into an odd mixture of ache and delight.

He figured out what this meant soon enough. The conflicting feeling did not originate from any sort of confusion about what he was experiencing; it came with the quandary of his two options: either keep going to conclude his penalty and follow orders, or go against those orders to avoid tainting this sacred act with his depravity.

He unlaced his trousers before going for the third whip. The aching feeling on his back was almost completely gone, replaced by a numb tingling along the wounded skin and an unbearable heat in his groin. The fourth hit was one-handed. Right hand wrapping tightly along the handle and left hand mirroring the grip around his cock as he pumped himself mechanically. When the metal hit the skin, a jolt of what felt like electricity traveled all the way down to his stomach, the member on his hand twitching in anticipation.

There was no fifth hit or anything beyond that. A final tug with a firm hand and gritted teeth culminated in his climax, hot viscosity percolating through his fingers as he rested his forehead on the edge of the bed. His chest heaved up and down as he whispered a string of prayers. Shame washed over him.

“Castigo corpus meum.” He repeated incessantly until he had enough strength in his legs to stand.

[beansricejc]

WIP WHENEVER

tagged by @scarlettspectra @discoscoob & @gea-chan96

so actually I ended up sort of finishing the WIP I was going to post… it was meant to be a short & sloppy one anyways lol

[kinda dumb but this song helped me out - don’t ask]

WICK’S MOTEL

cw: john’s a peeping tom

A few hours had passed, and the exhaustion from driving for 8 hours has finally kicked into your body. You opt for a nice steamy shower, taking in a deep breath to clear out your stuffy nose.

The man at the desk was pretty… hot, you suppose. You just aren’t exactly sure why he out of all people is running a motel in the middle of nowhere. Of course this is one of those classic ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ joints. Ever since escaping your toxic ex, you’ve mastered the art of evading, and these places weren’t new to you.

Even though you weren’t a criminal, your fellow motel guests definitely were. Drug lords, mobsters, low level robbers and get away drivers. Honestly anyone in the game, you’ve probably accidentally bumped into at one of these places.

John certainly knows how many times you’ve been here. Or any other off brand Continental motel in the general region. After faking his death, he had to go way off the map. And cutting his hair was one of the only things he could do to help evade watching eyes.

But John was the watching eye at the moment. Unbeknownst to you, he’s taken a particular liking to the woman who checked in today. He’s checked you in about 5 times now, you leave the place clean and don’t make any trouble. The perfect customer.

If only you knew that this time, he gave you the room next to where he stays.

Your tits in this shower look fucking phenomenal. Your hands massage your breasts, working in the soap to create a lather in order to wash yourself. The foam of the bar makes its way to your nipples, even sliding down to your soft tummy. A good lather, the steam blowing into his eye, your voice humming some pop song, and watching your body, all naive and wet.

All for him.

What once was a building mistake actually gave himself the ultimate peeping Tom hole. Right into the shower of the hotel room next to his. Hidden by a simple framed picture, he was able to look in at any moment he chose.

John’s teeth dig into his bottom lip, tasting copper as his hand pumped his shaft. He’s unbelievably hard, wondering what it would be like to fuck you against that shower wall. To come up from behind and pull back the curtain, feasting his eyes while you screamed in shock.

In another world you wouldn’t scream. Scratch the scream. He needs this to be perfect.

In a perfect world you’d be his girlfriend, or secret lover.

Who cares?

You in this shower was the best thing he’s ever seen. The soap slips from your hand, and you’re forced to bend over, giving John the best possible view of your cunt, ass, and upper thighs. You’re so, perky. Silky smooth. Supple.

So fuckable.

John covers his own mouth as his hand twists the head of his cock with a tight grip. His hips buck forward, reenacting the movements he would be doing behind you in that shower.

That’s when you let out a soft moan, just from unwinding in the heat of the moment.

It’s like music to his ears. Your simple noise triggered something in his body, and the way his cock twitched in his grasp let him know of his impending orgasm.

John goes over the edge, he bites the skin of his palm, eyes rolling back into his head as heaps of milky seed shoot from the head of his member. Just thinking of you on your knees, smiling excitedly, eyes crossed just getting a closer look at his orgasm, it did wild things to his brain. He hoped you were a freak, using your fingers to wipe what he left on your cheeks, nose, lips, etc.

Picturing you sucking on your digits that are full of his cum really seals the deal.

The shower turns off, you wrap a towel around your soaking wet frame, and step out of John’s line of sight, proceeding to brush your teeth.

John catches his breath before looking around him, cursing that he didn’t put a new Kleenex box in his secret corner.

tagging: @rosevette @iovesia @cuddleyhoney @treedaddymcpuffpuff | sorry if you were already tagged!